


Paradox Lost

by orphan_account



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Paradox Lost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:37:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 119,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2778461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"His head hurt.</p><p>It pounded and his limbs felt disconnected and nausea was making him wish he'd never had those crumpets before leaving. But that was all in the past -future- and now he was struggling to sit up and breathe and -plan to bean the good doctor over the head for this- recover. Yes, that's it."</p><p>This is an upload of a fanfiction written by user Digi-Dolphin, which can be found here: (https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4298353/1/Paradox-Lost). Due to the period of time in which it what written, (which was prior to the second game even coming out, before we knew Luke's last name, or who Clive  was) the majority of this work is highly non-canonical, and should be treated as such. Please enjoy this fanfiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an upload of the fanfiction 'Paradox Lost' by Digi-Dolphin. I take no credit for the writing of this fanfiction, I merely wish to post it somewhere where it has the potential to garner more interest, as it is a 6 year old fanfiction by now. 
> 
> It is posted with no edits.
> 
> Please keep in mind that due to the time it was written, (prior to the second game even coming out, before we knew Luke's last name, or who Clive was) the majority of this work is highly non-canonical, and should be treated as such. Please enjoy this fanfiction.

I have very little knowledge on the events of the third Professor Layton game and thus base this little drabble on what information I can glean from fansites and artwork. Because of this, I am considering this to be completely AU and non-canon to the true series and sharing only a few similarities. Gaps will be filled in with creative license and hopefully doesn't destroy the nature of the storyline. Also, the Young!Layton concept is originally ArenWolfDemon's idea and credit goes to her for that and for allowing me to use the concept for this drabble. Many thanks, AWD.

* * *

Paradox Lost

* * *

His head hurt.

It pounded and his limbs felt disconnected and nausea was making him wish he'd never had those crumpets before leaving. But that was all in the past  _-future-_ and now he was struggling to sit up and breathe and  _-plan to bean the good doctor over the head for this-_  recover. Yes, that's it.

He felt for the golden pocket-watch that hung at his waist and sighed in relief to feel its cool surface under his fingertips. When the world finally decided to hold still and behave itself, he lifted it up to pop the catch and take a look at the time. Little digits engraved where they shouldn't be gleamed at him and he stared at the date before uttering a sharp curse.

"Bloody hell!"

In five minutes he was up and about, stomping down the sidewalk after emerging from the alley. His face was red with frustration and anger and now and again he would run his fingers through short, dirty-blonde hair in aggravation. He nearly lost his blue newsboy's cap that way but it was of little matter at the moment. The pocket-watch had revealed more than the date and time; it also revealed several broken bits of clockwork that were the result of his miscalculated landing.

"Overshot it; I overshot the time by three bloody  _decades_!" the young man growled to himself, uncaring of the strange looks he was getting from the people on the street, "And on top of  **that** , the blundering fool arranged for me to crash here and break the  **one**  thing that could possibly send me home to my proper time!" He finally stopped at a street corner and began digging through the brown satchel that hung down from his left shoulder, searching for his notebook. "How much worse can this day get? I don't have the time to be lollygagging about here when the Professor is in dire straits!" the young man grumbled, then sighed as he shifted his weight to lean against the signpost, "Or will be if I don't get to the proper time period. Luke, how  _do_  you get yourself into these messes?"

Done with berating himself, the teen calling himself Luke resumed searching his pack for the elusive little book. A ruckus started up just down the street and he paid it little mind... until a small band of boys raced by him in loud whoops and laughter. One of them bumped into him roughly before dashing off. Luke barely managed to keep himself on his feet and shook a fist at them in annoyance.

"Watch where you're going, you little hooligans!" he shouted and one looked over his shoulder at him with a mischievous grin.

"Sorry, sir! Won't happen again!" he shouted back and continued trailing after the other boys. Luke sighed harshly, looking after them with a nonplussed expression before pulling the book from his bag.

"Rascals." he muttered and opened the book, reaching back to fish out his pocket-watch, "Now, according to these notes, I..." He paused in alarm as he felt around at his waist and didn't touch on cool metal. With a startled cry, he lifted the sides of his blue jacket, staring at the bare pockets of his vest. "The watch! It's gone!" And then he remembered the boy that had bumped him and he was off like a shot, racing down the sidewalk to catch up to the gang as his mind rushed back to get a description of the brat. Bloody hell; if he didn't get that pocket-watch back, he'd never be able to repair it and get back to his time!

* * *

By the time Luke caught up to where the boys could be, the majority of them had already scattered and vanished. None of the ones that remained were the culprit, but they  **did**  have information that could lead him to the little thief. Luke huffed as he straightened up his clothes, dusty memories of long-ago lessons restraining his actions to those of a gentleman, albeit one on a mission. Once he was in proper order, he strode up to the remaining three boys, coughing politely into one fist to gain their attentions. He gave them a cold smile when they looked up at him.

"Good day, children. Might I ask if any of you have seen a small boy about your age and size, wearing a dusty red shirt and sporting messy hair the color of wheat?" he asked them, "I'd like to speak with him about a certain matter." The boys glanced at each other, then puffed themselves up to look intimidating.

"We ain't tellin' you nothin', mistah!" one of them retorted in defiance, the others chiming in with a chorus of  _"Yeeaaah!"_  that grated on Luke's ears. The young man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose at the sight.

"True gentlemen do not strike down those more innocent than themselves, as they are to be protected." he murmured to himself as a reminder, then gave the group another cold look, "All right then. I'll offer you a deal. Tell me where I can find that boy, and I won't call for a truancy officer to come for you right this minute." The boys looked at one another again, seeming to debate the offering. Finally, they came to an agreement and looked up at him.

"He's at the museum. Always goes there to wait for his Pops, so's he can try and spend some time with 'im." the first boy told him and gave him a daring glare, "Don't mess 'im up none, got it? Hesch's got problems enough and we dun wanna see 'im in school bawlin' like a baby again!" Luke blinked and gave them a perplexed look as he reached into his pocket for the collapsible motor-scooter the good doctor back home had loaned him.

"Okay..." he answered slowly, "Thank you very much. Carry on." With that he left the group and began to make his way back to the street. Once there, Luke set the scooter out to act as his transport and pulled free his notebook and a pencil, making notes as he was apt to do. It helped him keep information handy, as he didn't have motivation enough to bother remembering things anymore. Not since the Professor...

He shook his head of the thoughts, biting his lip as he returned to scribbling down what he'd learned so far. A description of the boy that stole his watch, the fact that he ran in a group with other trouble-makers and often went to a museum, his father worked at said museum and didn't spend much time with him, he had problems of some kind that often hurt him badly and he was known as Hesch. Puzzling, but then the Professor had always told him that every puzzle had an answer. This one would be no exception.

Now, to find out which museum was the one Hesch ran to, considering he was just a child and this was downtown London. Luke groaned softly to himself as he got onto the scooter and drove off; if only things had gone right for him for once, none of this would be happening now!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this point on, the chapter summary will include the original notes that user Digi-Dolphin had added to the top of each entry in the story. For this chapter, she added none, however.

There were two museums in the area that could be the destination for the boy named Hesch. Luke parked the scooter by one of them and propped his arms on the handlebars, glaring back and forth between the two buildings. It seemed like he was fated to have this streak of misfortune, as both museums were directly across from each other on the same street. After a few more minutes of glaring, Luke sighed and got off the scooter, leaving it in place while he strode towards the first museum. Best to just get the whole thing over with so he could get the watch back.

"Excuse me, madam, but may I trouble you with a few questions?" he asked of the curator once he was inside the building. The woman turned from her work to blink at him in confusion and Luke tipped his cap politely, "I'm searching for someone and I'm not sure if he's come to this museum or the one across the way." He added a bow for good measure, then straightened and smiled genially. "My name is Luke, and the boy I'm looking for goes by the name of Hesch. He's small, rather young, and wore a dusty red shirt. Has he come by here recently?" he went on. The curator returned the smile, looking faintly perplexed.

"Oh, good afternoon, sir! I'm sorry, but no one by that name or description has been here." she replied, "My name is Olivia Hawkes; I'm the curator for the Museum of Science." She gestured towards the grand doors that made up the entrance to the museum. "You can try asking at the Historical Museum, though." she offered and blushed slightly, "We may not have the types of displays the archaeologists bring to the Historical Museum, but I do hope you'll take the time to visit us and see our collection of scientific wonders." The offer surprised Luke for a moment, but he recovered quickly and managed another smile.

'Be a gentleman, Luke; never refuse the requests of a beautiful lady.' The words echoed through his mind as he thanked Ms. Hawkes for the invitation and promised to do just that when he had time for it. Another tip of the cap and he was off to the museum across the street. Along the way, he jotted down his new information. There were two museums within walking distance of the last spot Hesch was seen, one was a museum of science, the other of history. Hesch wasn't seen at the science museum. Also, he was invited to visit the science museum by the curator, Olivia Hawkes. Now that he was armed with his new facts, Luke marched up the steps to the Historical Museum, determined to find the boy that stole his pocket-watch.

The inside of the Historical Museum was far grander than the Museum of Science, with wide halls and tall ceilings and display cases showing off all sorts of treasures and relics from the old world. Awed by the majesty of the museum, Luke nearly ran into another gentleman. He caught himself at the last moment and apologized quickly, bowing once in greeting.

"I'm dreadfully sorry! I was at fault. Are you all right, sir?" he asked in concern, watching the taller man dust himself off and straighten his coat.

"Yes, yes. I'm fine. No harm done, young man." he returned stiffly and gave Luke a once over with a stern expression before pushing his glasses up his nose, "Yes? May I help you, young sir?" Luke blinked, frozen in place by what had just happened. That was an odd way of greeting someone. "Well? Speak up!" the gentleman remarked briskly, "I've important matters to attend to and I must be on my way quite soon!"

"Ah, yes, of course. My apologies." Luke murmured, lifting a hand to run his fingers through his hair again, "I'm looking for a small boy that may have come here. He wore a dusty red shirt and..." The man stiffened, nostrils flaring in irritation as his eyes blazed.

"BOY!" he bellowed suddenly, turning to direct his voice at a door not far from him and Luke, "Get out here and confess what you've done this time, before I take a switch to you!" Luke jumped at the first roar of anger, stepping back and lifting an arm for a shield, one hand automatically going for the dagger hidden in his coat. Luckily, he was able to stop himself from grabbing it, but the sudden high tension was beginning to wear on him. Reacting like that had become second nature after the Professor...

Again, Luke shoved those thoughts away, refusing to give in to the tears and the self-berating, focusing instead on the door that opened ever so slowly to reveal a young boy peering out at them fearfully. The gentleman waited, arms folded over his chest and furious look on his face. The boy looked over at Luke, eyes widening at recognizing him, then he swallowed hard and stepped out of the room, walking up to them both meekly.

"What did you do this time? And if you lie to me, so help me...!" the older man growled and Luke instinctively stepped between him and the boy.

"Sir, I'm not certain as to what is going on here," he told the man carefully, "but I only wanted to locate the boy who helped me find my watch. I had dropped it, you see, and this boy picked it up. Since I had an errand to do and couldn't meet him right away to reclaim it, I asked him to hold on to it for me until we did meet." Luke glanced back at the frightened child, shifting his weight to block him further. "However, in my carelessness, I neglected to ask for his name or where we could meet. So I asked around to find him." He watched the gentleman stare back at him in silence, hoping that he would buy the story and let them both off the hook. As far as he could see, the man didn't take very kindly to Hesch; could this be the boy's father? Was this the 'problem' that the boys were telling him about?

"He found your watch and was holding it for you until you could reclaim it?" the man questioned in obvious disbelief. Luke held his ground, nodding stiffly with an equally stern expression on his own face. Another moment of study and the other man huffed, pushing his glasses up again. "If that is your claim..." he remarked briskly, "Now, I must get to my meeting. I don't have time to bother with an errant child." He glared at Hesch warningly, "You will go home to your mother, boy, and behave yourself, or you will be punished for disobeying me. Do you understand?" Hesch nodded quickly, gripping Luke's pant leg and shrinking behind him for protection. With that, the man straightened and gave a curt bow to Luke. "Good day to you, sir." he bid his farewell, and then he left.

Luke waited until he was certain the other man was gone, then breathed a sigh of relief before looking down at the boy behind him, only to find that he had bolted and was racing for the doors to the museum. With a shout, he gave chase, dashing through the huge doors and taking the stone steps leading down in short leaps, easily catching up to Hesch. He reached out and grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt, holding him fast as he twisted and flailed frantically.

"Lemme go! Lemme go! I'm in enough trouble already!" the boy wailed but Luke held fast, growing more annoyed by the boy's behavior.

"Shut it! I just put myself out on a limb there to make you look good to that man and you dare to run off with my watch again!" he snapped, "Hand it over, pipsqueak!" Hesch twisted again, lashing out with little fists in an effort to beat himself free.

"No one asked you to do that!" he shouted, "And everything was fine until you showed up! You made it worse! I just wanted some time with my father and you ruined it!" Luke ground his teeth together in irritation.

"A true gentleman protects the innocent and the weak from those that would do them harm!" he growled out through clenched teeth, "But it also takes a gentleman to acknowledge the help others give them and be gracious about it! You're just a spoiled brat! Now give me back my watch!" Hesch struggled more fiercely, angry tears running down his cheeks as he kicked small brown shoes about in his efforts to free himself. Finally, he dug into a pocket and pulled out the golden pocket-watch, holding it tight in his hand.

"Fine! Take it, you meanie!" he blurted and threw it at Luke. The young man immediately let go of Hesch, stepping back and scrabbling to catch the watch before it could fall and break completely. The boy darted away from him, stopping several feet away to catch his breath and glare at him. Once the watch was secured, Luke could focus his attention on the boy standing some distance away from him. Hesch was breathing heavily, wheat-colored hair matted and messy from the struggle, his shirt rumpled and dirty.

"Bugger!" the boy suddenly yelled at him, pulling an eyelid down and sticking out his tongue for good measure. Luke twitched, growling as annoyance turned to full-blown fury. How dare he?! Hesch seemed to sense the shift in moods, as he yelped and began fleeing the scene again.

"Get back here, you little runt!" Luke yelled, giving chase and putting every ounce of speed he had into running after him. Be a gentleman, his ass! That brat was not going to be getting any of the mercies Professor Layton had taught him! Not a one!

The chase took the two of them from the Historical Museum, down several streets, across a park and through a few yards and gardens in the higher class residential areas. Luke finally cornered Hesch in one of the gardens, both of them panting from the exertions of running and dodging like maniacs through the better part of London. The boy looked around himself frantically, back pressed against a hedge as he found himself surrounded by the foliage, and finally shut his eyes with a squeak of terror, throwing himself down onto the grass.

"Okay! Okay! I give up!" he wailed, voice muffled by grass, "Just make it quick!" Luke's breath hitched and he nearly choked, startled by the boy's cry of surrender.

"Wh-what?! What are you talking about?!" he exclaimed, baffled. In all honesty, during the mad dash after Hesch, Luke had forgotten exactly why he was chasing the boy to begin with. Hesch lifted his face from the earth, looking up at him with wide, teary eyes, equally as puzzled-looking as Luke.

"You were chasing me to hit me with a switch, weren't you? Why else would you run after me?" the boy replied in confusion, "Father hits me all the time when I'm not being good, so I thought..." Luke stared at him in shock, then groaned and put a hand to his head, feeling himself sink into guilt.

"No, no. I'm not going to hit you. And for the love of God, your father isn't supposed to hit you like that, not to the point of you running scared like this!" he declared. He sighed and straightened his clothes and hat once again, trying to bring himself back into order. "I'm not entirely sure why I chased you. Maybe because you were annoying the living daylights out of me. But I'm not going to be hitting you!" he added firmly and eyed the boy carefully, "Are you okay? You don't look well." Hesch gave him a weak little smile as he sat up and rubbed his own head ruefully.

"I did a lot of running today, so I'm really tired. And I'm really sorry about taking your watch. I just wanted to fit in with the other boys, make some friends, you know?" he apologized and looked up at him as though realizing something, "Oh! That's right; how did you find me?" Luke grinned, a faintly arrogant air to the smile as he reflected proudly on his sleuthing.

"That was easy. I'm kind of a detective where I'm from so I just followed the clues you left behind to track you down." he returned and Hesch lit up.

"Really?! Wow! I want to be an achey-ologist when I grow up! Like my Father!" he blurted out excitedly, then faded to a more somber tone, his hands twisting into each other, "Maybe then he'll like me and can spend time with me." Luke lifted a hand to his mouth in thought, considering the boy before him as he sighed dejectedly and picked at the leaves in his clothes.

"You are often abused by your father, yet you wish to spend time with him, to the point of wanting to be in the same field he is just to gain some recognition beyond that of a truant." he mused aloud and the boy looked up at him, puzzled by his use of large and complex words. Luke sighed again, smiling uncertainly. "You are a strange one, Hesch." Hesch blinked, jerking his head back in shock.

"Huh? Why did you call me that?" he asked and the young man matched his confused expression.

"Isn't that your name? The other boys called you Hesch." he replied and the boy shook his head fiercely.

"No way! Hesch is what they say because they can't say my name right, so they mess it all up and call me Hesch!" he defended, shaking his fists indignantly. Luke scowled faintly, folding his arms over his chest.

"Well then, short stuff, if Hesch isn't your name, what is it?" he griped. The boy rolled his eyes.

"Hershel." he replied, mimicking Luke's arrogant tone and stunning the young man into silence, "Get it right! For goodness sake, it's not that hard to say!"


	3. Chapter 3

Luke stepped back, horrified, while the boy before him stood up and dusted himself off, trying hard to remove the stains of dirt and grass that clung to his clothes. Had he truly heard right? Did this little runt who stole his pocket-watch and caused him no end of irritation for the majority of this day really say his name was Hershel? Could it be...?

He swallowed hard and put a hand over his heart, feeling it pound like mad in his chest. Just one question; that's all he needed.

"He-Hershel?" he called out brokenly and the boy looked up at him again, a mix of concern and wariness on his face, "Do you know about... can you tell me...?" Luke licked his lips as they suddenly went dry and tried again. "Do you know Professor Layton?" he finally asked softly, eyes locked onto the small boy to see his reaction to the name. Hershel brightened considerably and laughed.

"Of course, sir! Professor Layton is my father!" he exclaimed brightly, "Professor Harold Layton of the Historical Museum; he's the best achey-ologist in all London!" Suddenly, a mask of wary suspicion slammed down over his cheerful face and he shrank back from him. "Why do you ask?" he added, "You better not be trying to snoop around my father's business. And... and I was lying about being hit! So don't go spreading untrue stories!" Luke held out his hands for peace, kneeling down to see eye to eye with the boy.

"No, no! Nothing of the sort!" he agreed quickly, "I was just curious!" A shaky smile crossed his face and he closed his eyes, letting the information sink into him. It was a stroke of luck that dear Lady Fortune deemed fit to grant him for this day. He had found him, albeit far younger than he was looking for but nevertheless he was there in front of him. Hershel Layton in the flesh and, most of all, alive. "Thank you." Luke whispered, trembling happily as tears began running down his cheeks.

Something tugged at his sleeve and he opened his eyes, looking down at his side as Hershel stood there with a worried expression, one small hand gripping the arm of his jacket. Up close now, Luke could see the features that would one day make him recognizable as Professor Hershel Layton, the great puzzle master and archaeologist, his mentor. Messy hair the color of wheat that would be slicked back and trimmed someday, bright honey-brown eyes that would grow soft with wisdom and kindness, quick little fingers that would solve puzzles with ease and uncover ancient relics once he grew older; it was all there in his most innocent and purest time.

"Sir? Are you okay?" Hershel asked quietly, "Why are you crying? Is something wrong?" Luke chuckled softly, rubbing his tears away with his free hand and shaking his head.

"No, nothing's wrong. I'm fine." he replied and stood up, "You just remind me of a friend I cared for, that's all. I'm crying because I'm happy." He took a deep breath to steady himself and held out a hand towards the boy, "Now, let's get you home so you won't be in trouble. I have to find a few things to fix my watch." Hershel tilted his head curiously at the offered gesture, then hesitantly reached out to Luke's hand. The young man watched with a small smile as the little hand gripped his own gingerly. So tiny and warm...

He reached out with a trembling hand, touching fingertips to his neck, hoping, praying, begging for his eyes to be deceived. Desperate, he moved from that to his wrist, and finally, just held his hand, gripping it tight as he called out softly, then screamed to the heavens in agony. And the whole time, it was cold, so very cold...

"Sir? You're crying again, but you don't look happy." Hershel suddenly remarked worriedly, "That looks like sad crying." He winced and blushed, "And you're squeezing my hand. It doesn't hurt much, but it's not very comfortable." Luke gasped and loosened his hold, rubbing his thumb against the back of the boy's hand to alleviate the pain.

"Ah, my apologies, Hershel. I just remembered something that was very sad and forgot where I was for a moment." he explained vaguely and forced another few chuckles to play it off. He gave the little hand a tug. "Well, home you go. Can you tell me where you live?" he asked, "I hope we didn't run too far from your house." Hershel looked around as they left the garden, hurrying along to keep up with Luke's long-legged pace.

They walked the streets together until Hershel pointed at a large, wrought-iron gate that stood as the entrance to a sizable estate. Laughing, the boy tugged on Luke's hand and slipped free, running for it with that familiar loping gait the young man knew so well. He sighed, retreating into his personal shell as he walked up to the gate with his hands in his pockets. So he had found the Professor in this timeline, but it didn't do him any good at all. The event occurred later in his life, when he was an adult, in his prime and solving all the puzzles of the world with his loyal apprentice at his side. Staying here wasn't doing anyone any good and put the Professor Layton of the future at even greater risk.

He paused at the gate and looked up at the curls of iron while Hershel tinkered with the lock on it. The family crest was crafted onto a circular plate of bronze soldered in place at the top of the gate, a top hat made of iron with a monogrammed 'L' fashioned from yet more bronze embedded in its center. Luke lifted an eyebrow at it. That was same crest the Professor used for sealing letters and was often found on his letterheads and cards. He'd always thought that he'd come up with it as a kind of a joke for being so attached to his top hat. Odd, why didn't he remember seeing the gate at the house with that insignia? He lowered his gaze in time to see Hershel unlock the gate and push it open, running down the cobblestone path eagerly.

"Wha-?!" Luke exclaimed in shock, stepping through the gate himself to be sure he wasn't seeing things. Ever since he became an apprentice, Luke lived with Professor Layton in a modest little house in a good part of the city, and when Flora joined them, they remained where they were, as the house could easily accommodate a third and even a fourth person joining them there. Luke had long believed his mentor lived in a mansion compared to the orphanage he had previously called home, but this place...! This place was a veritable palace in comparison! He looked up at the tall manor with its sweeping rooftops, the courtyard with a fountain encircled by a driveway, lush topiaries lining the path, all with an awed expression. The Professor really grew up in such a fancy place as this? What had happened, then, to have him change from the grand estate to the more sedate homestead he was used to?

"Hey, Mister! Over here!" Hershel called out to him from by the fountain, "I wanna show you something!" Luke sighed and ran down the path towards him, determined to see him to his front door so that he could be on his way. He still had to retrieve his scooter and find a clockmaker for replacement parts.

"Want to, Hershel. You want to show me something." he corrected once he reached the boy, "True gentlemen use proper English. Abusing the language like that reflects badly on you and your upbringing." Hershel made a face at that.

"But it sounds stuffy. Who says you have to be a gentleman?" he complained, turning around in a huff and folding his arms onto the edge of the fountain. Luke blinked in surprise at the boy's behavior, then pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't think the Professor could be like this at such an age.

"My mentor instructed me on the duties and habits of proper gentleman in modern society." Luke told the boy in as calm a tone as possible, "You'd benefit from learning about it and putting it into practice." Hershel dipped a finger into the water filling the wide basin of the fountain, watching the colorful fish in the pool flit away from him.

"Yeah? Was he any good at it too?" he asked with a pout. Luke moved closer and sat by the boy on the fountain's marble trim, gazing into the pool of fish with a melancholy expression.

"The best of them all, in my eyes. He taught me everything I know about being a true gentleman." he replied softly, "And I do my best to follow his teachings, to honor and respect him. He was, after all, like a father to me." Hershel grunted something unintelligible and rested his chin on his arms. They sat in silence and Luke blinked suddenly, realizing something. "You said you wanted to show me something?" he prompted the boy and Hershel jumped up, all brightness and cheer again.

"That's right! It's this fountain and the fish!" he exclaimed and held out his arms as if embracing the whole fountain, "It's my favorite spot. I come out here and I feed the fish and throw in coins to make wishes." He smiled widely up at Luke. "It always cheers me up; the water is pretty and the fish are in lots of colors and shapes." he added, "And you were looking sad so I thought it would cheer you up, sir!"

"Luke." the young man offered, gesturing to himself, "My name is Luke. I'm sorry I didn't mention that sooner. I... should have introduced myself." He gazed back at the pool. "And you're right; I was feeling a bit sad." Luke agreed and managed a small smile, "Funny. I never thought I'd be the one to say this but... this fountain... it reminds me of a puzzle..." Hershel blinked and tilted his head curiously. "My mentor used to always say that about various things. It used to annoy me, especially in the very beginning of my apprenticeship with him, and when he spotted something late at night and I was sharing a room with him. Now..." Luke sighed regretfully, dipping his own fingers into the water, "Now, I'd give anything to hear him say those words to me again."

The front door to the manor opened just then and a woman stepped out to greet them, holding herself up with prim dignity. Hershel gasped and shoved himself away from the fountain, swallowing hard as he straightened up to stand just as stiffly as the woman. Luke quickly got to his feet, watching the woman warily as adjusted his coat and tie before moving to greet her in return, subtly shifting his stance to place himself between Hershel and the richly dressed woman without drawing attention to the fact that he was acting defensively. Whoever she was, she scared Hershel stiff, literally.

"Good evening, madam. My name is Luke and I was looking for the Layton residence. Am I at the right estate?" he asked politely, pulling his cap down and bowing courteously. The woman lifted an eyebrow at him, then seemed to relax, smiling cheerfully at him as she bowed her head in return.

"Good evening, Sir Luke. You are, indeed, standing before the Layton household. I am Helena Layton, and it seems you've already become acquainted with my dear son, Hershel." the woman replied and gestured towards the boy, who seemed to wilt in relief, "I hope he hasn't troubled you in any way." Luke shook his head, slipping his cap back on. Helena smiled wider. "That's good. Thank you for escorting him home from the museum. He tends to walk home alone in the evenings and causes some mischief along the way." she explained and turned to gesture towards the doorway, "Won't you please stay for a cup of tea before you go on your way? I hope you're not too busy."

"Yes, please?" Hershel piped in hopefully, bouncing around to stand before Luke with his hands clasped together in prayer, trying his best to look innocent and angelic. Luke could have sworn he could see little devil's horns rising from the top of his head. Amazing; who would believe the Professor had been such a little rascal at this age?!

"No, not terribly busy, Lady Layton." Luke finally accepted the invitation with a small smile, "I had spent quite a bit of time traveling and a spot of tea sounds just perfect." Hershel cheered as his mother chuckled politely, then grabbed onto his hand, hurrying to the door and practically dragging Luke after him. Luke tried to keep himself in check; he was burning with curiosity over the Layton estate, but had to find the opportunity to put pencil to paper and write down his new notes before the information completely slipped his mind.

Tea was calming him and his stomach, which had still been issuing the occasional complaint about the time-travel on a full stomach, and Luke reclined into the sofa situated in the Sun Room of the Layton Manor. Hershel plopped himself onto the sofa beside him, a cup of tea in one hand and a buttered crumpet in the other, a large bite already taken out of it. Helena sat on a cushioned chair on the other side of the tea table, humming softly to herself as she stirred her own tea.

"So you are traveling from a foreign land, Sir Luke? You sound as though you are native to London." she finally asked, starting up the customary small talk. Luke sipped at his cup, thinking over his words carefully.

"In so many words, yes. I was born and raised in England, much of my life in London, but I've been traveling abroad for some time." he answered, "I am merely passing through here on my way to another location, but I've come across some trouble and won't be moving on until it's been attended to." He ran a fingertip delicately across the gilded rim of his cup. "Which means I'll have to find a small flat or apartment to rent until I can leave again, and such a situation worries me, as I don't have much money with me to pay for that kind of luxury." he added worriedly.

"Can he stay here, Mother?!" Hershel suddenly blurted out happily, crumbs flying from his mouth in his excitement. Helena frowned at him and Luke winced before giving him a sharp glare.

"Hershel, a true gentleman doesn't speak with his mouth full." he lectured, "And the question should be 'May he stay here?'; what did I tell you about speaking proper English?" Hershel drank down his tea and grabbed a linen cloth to wipe his face clean.

"I'm sorry. Mother, may he stay here with us? Please?" the boy asked eagerly and Luke finally dropped his mouth open in shock once he recognized what was going on. Helena's frown quickly shifted into a smile that she turned on Luke.

"Sir Luke, you seem to know gentlemanly behavior of utmost quality. I believe we can come to an agreement that would be mutually beneficial." she remarked cheerfully and closed her eyes partway, "We have ample rooms for guests; you may have one and remain here for the length of time you need to sort out your affairs. In exchange..." She took a sip of tea, eyes glittering at him over the rim of her cup, before continuing, "In exchange, you will take in Hershel as an apprentice and teach him the ways of a true gentleman, as well as any of your craft that is fit for a young lad of ten years to know."

The world dimmed alarmingly fast after that and, as Helena and Hershel both took on startled, frightened expressions, Luke's only conscious thought was the fact that he was going to be very late in recording his notes for the day.


	4. Chapter 4

The pleasant songs of the local birds guided Luke out of sleep and back into the world. For a few minutes, he lay in bed, blinking lidded eyes slowly as his mind began tracing through his thoughts and memories. When had he decided to retire for the evening? He couldn't remember. He did remember, however, telling Helena about his dilemma in locating a flat for rent, and then Hershel jumped up and...

Eyes widening as alertness slammed him head-on, Luke sat up in a flash and immediately regretted it, holding a hand to his head as his brain seemed to start pounding against his skull in its latest effort to escape him. Now he remembered! Hershel Layton, the boy he'd met that would grow to become his mentor Professor Layton; the miscalculated time warp that broke the pocket-watch and left him stranded in the far past; the offer by Lady Layton to let him stay at the estate in exchange for... for... Luke swallowed hard, feeling his mouth go dry at the very idea that he, of all people, would be mentoring young Hershel.

This was going to destroy the timeline, he just knew it!

The door creaked open and he glanced over at it, eyebrows furrowing together as he pulled up his usual impassive expression to hide his panic. Hershel peeked into the room, a worried look on his face that remained even after seeing Luke awake. He stood there, silent and fidgety, until Luke sighed and made a small gesture with one hand to allow him inside. The boy's face melted into a wide smile and he rushed inside, climbing onto the bed and sitting by him happily.

"I'm so glad to see you're okay now, Sir Luke!" Hershel exclaimed brightly, "You had me and Mother worried when you fainted on the sofa last night! The maids had to bring you here and get you all dressed up for bed and Mother called for a doctor to come see you today and...!" Luke gasped sharply and reached out both hands to grip the boy's shoulders.

"She did what?!" he blurted out in alarm, sweat breaking out on his forehead, "She called a doctor to see me?!" Hershel nodded, confused. "No, no, no..." Luke groaned softly, "Doctors keep records of patients. I can't leave any trace of myself behind here!"

"Whyever not, Sir Luke?" the boy asked, still confused by his new mentor's behavior. Luke sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head slightly, but even that bit of motion made it throb painfully.

"It's a story best not told, Hershel. Please ask your mother to dismiss the doctor and I will apologize to her for the trouble when I'm able to stand again." he replied softly and managed a small smile for the boy's sake, "All I need is a bit of rest and I'll be fine." Hershel looked aside for a moment, considering it for the briefest of seconds, before turning back and nodding with a smile.

"All right, Sir Luke! I'll do my best!" he chirped and seemed to brighten even more, if it were possible to be any cheerier, "So, will you accept my mother's offer, Sir Luke? Can I be your apprentice?" He looked as excited as any boy who just received their ideal birthday gift, small fists shaking eagerly. Luke pulled his hands away, musing silently on that. On the one hand, he was in dire need of a place to stay that wouldn't keep record of him, and renting from a landlord would do exactly that. But on the other, he couldn't do this to Hershel! He wasn't good enough to be a proper apprentice to Professor Layton, far less be a mentor to his younger self!

"I really don't know if I can." he finally whispered, "I'm not worthy of being anyone's mentor, and you are much too special." Luke dared a glance at the boy and was taken aback to see Hershel rubbing an eye as he sniffled quietly. "Hershel? Why are you crying? Surely you can find a much better teacher!" he inquired.

"But I was hoping you would be my teacher, Sir Luke." the boy mumbled sadly, "Because you helped me even when I wasn't being good." He fidgeted again, twisting his hands in one another. "I want to be a gentleman and an achey-ologist, so Father will like me and spend time with me. He's always working and he's hardly ever home and..." Luke cringed more and more as the list went on. Oh, brilliant; he's getting the guilt trip treatment from the future Professor Layton. He held up his hands in surrender.

"All right, all right! Please, Hershel; I've had enough misfortune in my life!" he exclaimed, "I don't need additional reasons to cry myself to sleep at night!" He sighed heavily and gave the boy a stern gaze. "You may be my apprentice. Must I keep correcting you on your language?" Luke added, smirking as the boy laughed sheepishly, one hand rubbing the back of his head, "And it's morning. Haven't you washed up yet? You're still wearing the clothes from yesterday." Hershel yelped, looking down at himself.

"Blimey! It completely slipped my mind!" he cried and rushed off, "Catalina! Where are my clothes for the day?!" Luke chuckled softly as he scurried out of sight, then looked around himself to take in his surroundings. He was obviously in a guest room at the Layton estate, his clothes folded neatly and left on a nearby dresser, his cap perched on a hat rack and shoes properly shined and placed at its feet. His satchel was also hung from the rack, but Luke's attention was immediately drawn to his clothes, a faint blush crossing his face as he realized he'd been changed into bedclothes during his unconscious state. Beside them was his dagger, a small and agile weapon that he'd picked out in place of his fencing sword for ease of travel through time. He reached out to collect it and thumbed the sheath with a tiny smile before it faded in horrid realization.

The sheath carried Professor Layton's insignia on it, marking it as his property. Had anyone else seen it? They must have, considering it was taken out of his longcoat's inner pocket and left there for him to see.

Luke stowed it away quickly, getting up to gather his clothing and enter the washroom. As soon as he was out, he was going to record his notes and try to find a clockmaker, hopefully without arousing suspicions in the Layton estate. Last thing he needed was to become a new puzzle for his future mentor to work on and blow his cover decades before they were to 'meet'.

Fully dressed for the day, both Luke and Hershel stood before Helena in the Sun Room again, waiting for her to finish sipping at her tea to address them. She took her time dabbing at her mouth before finally looking up at them with a firm expression.

"Sir Luke, my son told me you did not wish to have a doctor see to your malady. May I inquire as to why?" she asked.

"Begging your pardon, Lady Layton, but I'm afraid that the story behind my request must remain my own." Luke returned softly, "I appreciate your concern for what had occurred last night, but I'm fine now and I've considered your offer." Helena raised an eyebrow, waiting expectantly. The young man sighed, sounding faintly resigned as Hershel grinned gleefully, barely able to keep from fidgeting in excitement. "I will accept your magnanimous offer and instruct Hershel in gentlemanly behavior until such time as I am able to continue on my journey." he decided, blinking when the woman smiled and clapped her hands together cheerfully.

"Wonderful! You will start immediately, I assume?" she remarked and picked up a letter from the table, "Also, I have a small errand for you to run, if you don't mind. I have written a letter explaining your new employment with this family and the situation you are in so that my husband will know of it as well. Please take this to him, and take Hershel with you. Studies in how to behave in public are foremost, in my opinion." Luke took the letter in hand, startled, while she laughed lightly behind her hand. "I had a feeling you would be accepting the position of teacher. Hershel can be most persistent about matters that he has strong feelings for." she explained and took another sip of tea before looking up at him with a faintly catty smile, "May I ask you a question in regards to that interesting item found in your coat? One of my maids drew my attention to it." Luke stiffened, sweat breaking out across his forehead once more as Hershel looked puzzled, turning his head up to watch his new mentor.

"Whatever do you mean by it, Lady Layton?" Luke returned the question with one of his own. Helena stood and lifted a small box onto the table, carefully opening it and tilting it to show its contents to him. A dagger, exactly the same as the one Luke wielded, rested on the velvet bed within the dark cherry case.

"It's rather odd, don't you think, to carry a knife that bears our family crest while it sits here in my possession?" she mused aloud with her smile unwavering, "Our blacksmith had assured me that this specific dagger was the only one in existence and any similar blades he may have created from it would bear an altered crest. Yet the dagger you carry is twin to my own. What a quaint little puzzle." She closed the box and set it aside, folding her hands before her waist as she continued smiling. "I will assume that this will also be part of that story you can not share. Do have a pleasant day today, and teach my son well." she finished and tilted her head in a parting nod before leaving the room.

"Your mother frightens me, Professor." Luke muttered under his breath, "And I would very much like to know why the hell you would give me her dagger as part of my fencing kit!" He shook his head at last and gestured towards the boy. "Well, come along then. Off we go to the Historical Museum." They left the manor, Luke reaching for his notebook once again to record still more notes on all that he'd been through.

Lady Fortune decided to grace him once more, as Luke's motor-scooter had remained in place during the night he was away. He needed to distract the boy first, so he could collapse it back into portable form.

"Is that all your maids picked out for you to wear?" Luke demanded of him. Hershel blinked up at him, then looked down at himself. His outfit was simple, same as the day before; plain brown shorts and shoes and a simple orange shirt with long sleeves. Hershel shrugged, nonplussed about it.

"It works." he replied and yelped as Luke grabbed him by the hand and dragged him towards a tailor.

"A gentleman is supposed to look the part, too! You need a proper coat and hat and you will be fitted for them here!" he declared, "I've got just enough money for it, so don't complain and don't dawdle! You want to look your best for your father, don't you?" Luke pulled the protesting boy into the shop and pushed him towards the first tailor he laid eyes on. "You! Fit him for a coat and hat! I'm teaching him to be a gentleman and he isn't even properly dressed for it!" he blurted and darted out before anyone could say anything about it.

"Sir Luke! You're supposed to place a deposit for the clothes first!" Hershel called out after him and sighed, looking up at the tailor, "I don't suppose you can do this on good faith, could you? My father is Professor Layton; if anything, he can pay for the coat and hat." A broad smile spread across his face as his eyes lit up. "Can you-?!" he began before catching himself, "I mean, may I have a hat like the one Sir Luke wears?" The tailor lifted an eyebrow at him. "Please?"

Luke collected the scooter and turned to his notebook, looking over his notes. There was the commentary on the Layton Family's crest, the mystery of why the Professor abandoned the larger estate later in his life, the identities of Hershel's parents and their own oddities, and the uncomfortable new knowledge that the dagger he currently used had once belonged to his mother, a woman who seemed to be a puzzle all on her own. The letter that needed to be delivered was stowed in his satchel and his note on Olivia Hawkes reminded him that her invitation still stood. Perhaps he could go visit once he concluded his errand for Helena; a science museum should know about clockwork and mechanical devices of the sort and thus give him direction on who to turn to for help in repairing his pocket-watch.

Next on his agenda was helping to smooth over the problem between Hershel and his father; Luke couldn't recall a time in his life where Professor Layton even mentioned his own parents. Had something occurred during the past that estranged him from his family? Could he probably alter history so as to bring the family together? The young man stood in silence, face shadowed by his cap as he killed that thought then and there. No, absolutely not. He was endangering history enough simply by being Hershel's mentor. He clenched his teeth as another fleeting piece of memory flashed through his mind. Besides, if Luke wasn't allowed to go further back into the past to prevent his own family's tragic separation, then why should he bother trying for Hershel? The Professor turned out to be a diamond of a man without them; let this part of the past play out as it should.

He returned to the tailors' shop to pick up young Hershel and be on his way, pulling several pounds from his wallet to pay for the clothes. Luke paused at the sight of a small crowd of other clients cooing and squealing over someone in the center and he rushed forward to try getting through.

"Excuse me! I beg your pardon!" he exclaimed, "Hershel! Is that you?!"

"Bugger! Why'd you give me this thing?! I can't stand wearing it for more than a minute!" the boy's voice protested loudly over the other voices, helping lead Luke to him. The young man got through and stood there, shocked for a moment before he lifted a hand to cover his face, groaning to himself as he picked up yet another clue that this timeline was in trouble. Hershel had his hands gripping the brim of his new brown top hat as he tried yet again to pull it off and toss it away, only to have one of the other people snatch it up and plunk it back down on his head. "Hey! Clear off! I don't want this hat; I want one like Sir Luke's!" he yelled louder, "I hate this hat!"

"Bloody hell, Professor; you showered with that hat on. Don't tell me you had to get forced into wearing it in the beginning." Luke grumbled under his breath. The sooner he could leave the past for the appropriate time, the better. Hershel was having a grand old time rewriting his own history!


	5. Chapter 5

Luke had no idea how much of a fight he was going to have to go through to get Hershel to wear his new top hat. Between the screaming and the tantrums and the stealing of his own newsboy's cap -how Hershel managed that, Luke would never know- he was just about fed up with the whole thing. Eventually he snatched the top hat away before Hershel could do something more to it and just snapped.

"How in God's name are you supposed to grow up to be a proper gentleman if you keep acting like a spoiled, bratty twat?!" Luke yelled at the boy, causing him to shrink back and widen his eyes in horror. The young man twitched a few times, then pulled his hair into his hands, screaming his frustration from behind clenched teeth. Both boys stayed in their respective positions for another few minutes; Hershel, cowering and hugging the top hat -his little fingers had somehow liberated it from out of Luke's grasp as well- for protection, eyes wide and hyper-focused on his mentor to catch the slightest shift that would mean a spanking was swiftly coming, and Luke, gripping his hair and keeping clenched teeth bared to the heavens.

Eventually, he sighed in defeat and sank to the sidewalk, looking a complete mess compared to his earlier state of dress. Luke blinked slowly, dazedly, at Hershel, who blinked back, relaxing the tiniest bit when no other movement was made. Another moment more and the boy carefully took a step forward, then another, then another.

"Sir Luke?" he called out softly, hesitantly. Luke only blinked stupidly back at him. "Sir Luke, are you... okay, sir?" Hershel tried again. He wasn't looking much better himself, shoes scuffed from digging in heels and dragging his toes in regards to the hat, clothing dusty from flopping about on the ground in his tantrums and hair mussed from constantly flipping the top hat off and struggling to avoid having it put back on. Luke still blinked at him, looking exhausted by that effort alone. Hershel gulped and gingerly placed the top hat on his own head, taking care to finger his hair back into place as best he could. He fluffed his coat, patting off the dust and twisting around to be sure he got most of it off his back as well. Once done, he cleared his throat as subtly as possible and put his hands behind his back, toeing the sidewalk with one brown leather shoe, looking perfectly pathetic.

"Um, Sir Luke?" Hershel tried once more, "I'm wearing the hat now. I... I'm sorry. I guess I wasn't being much of a proper gentleman, was I?" Luke blinked at him, finally focusing on him, then sighed, lifting a hand to his temple.

"No, no you weren't. But you've apologized and made amends so it should be fine." he replied softly, "And I should apologize as well. I shouldn't have lost my temper like that." He managed a sheepish smirk. "I wasn't much better off than you when I first began my apprenticeship with my mentor. Only, I threw fits about his cooking." Luke added with a chuckle before reaching out to adjust the top hat. "You look very handsome in that hat, Hershel. Positively smashing." he teased, causing Hershel to stick out his tongue and fold his arms over his chest defiantly.

"I still want one like yours!" he protested and Luke stood up, straightening himself up.

"Maybe someday." he remarked lightly, leading the boy by the hand towards the Historical Museum, then mumbling under his breath, "Fat chance of that; the Professor Layton I remember sleeps with that hat on as well. I'd swear it was attached to his scalp if Anthony hadn't proven otherwise..."

To say that Professor Harold Layton wasn't particularly pleased to be interrupted in the middle of dating a piece of pottery would be a gross understatement. To say he wasn't terribly interested in what his wife had done in his absence would be to say the same as the aforementioned statement. Professor Harold Layton was a near-obsessive working man, with little patience for unscheduled meetings, especially if they concerned his son, whom he reportedly commented on as being 'disappointingly unfocused'. So to have Luke and Hershel show up out of the blue with a letter from his wife, whose cunning sometimes frightened him as well as enchanted him, while he was having a great deal of trouble with the current piece of history on his desk was simply asking for him to expend his frustration on someone.

Sadly, he chose Hershel.

The boy dove for protection behind Luke, who stood fast between him and Harold and barked back just as viciously about the whole affair. The linguistic fencing was lightning fast and fierce, with violent stabs, barbarous cuts, swift parries and numerous touchés. The final coup de grâs came from Luke, who shot a glare at the pottery when the current Professor Layton dubbed it foremost on his list of 'Things to Deal With' and promptly dated it for him. Hershel whistled in appreciation from behind his legs and waist, yelping back into silence when Luke threw a hand behind him to cover his mouth. Harold glared back at him, double-checked his statement on the pottery, then threw in the white cloth by gesturing towards a seat.

"So you'll be taking my son as an apprentice to teach him to be a gentleman." he stated bluntly, pushing his glasses up as he gave Hershel a glance over, "You're off to a poor start, though. He's dressed the part but has yet to be broken of his delinquent habits." Hershel winced, pulling his hat down further to shield himself. Luke reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder for comfort even as he gazed sternly back at his father.

"Those are not habits but merely attempts to gain your attention. If you would take the time to spend just an hour or so, perhaps more, with him, you would see that..." he returned and bit his lip as the current Professor slammed a hand down on his desk, rattling the objects and papers stacked upon it.

"And if you would be so kind as to remain out of family affairs, you will have no further complaints from me on the studies you give to the boy!" he snapped back and breathed deeply to calm himself, sitting back in his chair, "Sir Luke, you have the benefit of your own mentor's funding to travel and continue your studies. He should be commended for having taught you well and making sufficient enough income to warrant such luxuries." Luke miraculously kept a straight face hearing the praise. "However, I do not believe in such foolhardy spending." Harold growled, steepling his fingers before him, "I work hard to keep my family well off. Our estate, our property, all of it comes from my work here and abroad in collecting artifacts. To have a son that would carelessly throw it all away for frivolities is an outright shame."

Luke could feel Hershel stiffen under his hand and glanced quickly down at him. The boy had schooled his face into a blank expression, gazing through man and desk into the distance and beyond.

"I would appreciate your ability to educate him and bring him in line to be the hardworking Layton all boys in our family have grown to become." Harold went on, gesturing carelessly towards Hershel, "Teach him well. But do know this; I won't stand for any idleness. The moment my suspicions are confirmed that he is learning nothing from you, you will be asked to leave the estate and continue your work elsewhere. Are we clear?" Luke stood from his chair almost too quickly to be polite, tugging Hershel's hand to have him follow.

"Quite clear, Professor." he returned, making the title sound almost like a vulgarity, "If you don't mind, we'll be on our way to commence the lessons. Good day, sir." With that, he left the room with a stiff gait, the little boy tagging after him quickly. Harold watched them leave and sighed harshly, rubbing his forehead as his eyes flicked towards his own top hat resting on a second desk nearby.

"Hershel, son, I do wish you could understand I do this only because you have potential that is wasting away." he murmured softly, "Find a passion to live for, or you will remain unfocused and lost in this mystery called existence."

It took five minutes after leaving the museum for Luke to crack and fall to the sidewalk, laughing in near hysterics. Hershel paused and stared at him, aghast that his mentor seemed to have lost his marbles, before rushing over and tugging on his coat by the sleeve.

"Sir Luke! Get up! You're making a spectacle of yourself!" the boy cried, ducking an arm that swung by to cover Luke's eyes as he continued laughing, "Please, get up! If not to stop this laughing, then to at least share the joke so I can laugh too!" The young man struggled to sit up, clutching his sides with one arm as he rubbed tears away with his free hand.

"I'm sorry, Hershel, but the joke is based on knowledge I'm not allowed to share. However, do trust me when I say that your father had said a great deal of incredibly ironic things." Luke replied and took a deep breath to calm himself, clapping the boy on the back, "Right then. Don't worry about what your father says. I have confidence that you will do him proud one day. Maybe not now, but one day." He pulled his hand back and blinked at the coat of dust on it before smirking down at Hershel again, "Missed a spot?" The boy giggled sheepishly, tilting his hat at an angle rather than rubbing his head as usual.

"So where next for my first lesson, Sir Luke?" Hershel asked eagerly and Luke flicked open his notebook, reading off the information to himself silently before clapping it closed and slipping it back into his satchel.

"We're going to the Museum of Science. The curator invited me to visit and it would be a good way of introducing you to how to greet a lady. If you can't do that, you'll likely be in trouble later." he told the boy, "Also, I have business there to attend to, namely fixing my pocket-watch so I can continue my travel." Hershel lifted a hand to his mouth in thought, taking on a pensive expression that Luke found painfully familiar.

"Really? Why can't you just buy a new watch if the one you have is broken?" he wondered and brightened, "Oh! Maybe it's one that your mentor gave to you as a present! Right?" Luke managed a vague smile at that.

"Ah, well. The watch does have some connection to my mentor, but you don't need to know the details of that either. Let's just get going." he replied quickly and took the boy by the hand, leading him to the other building, "Now, when you greet a lady, you have to be on your very best behavior. Address them as 'madam' unless told otherwise and don't forget to bow and tip your hat when you greet them. Don't worry about doing it exactly like that, you can have some fun with it too, just stay proper..."


	6. Chapter 6

Something Luke would remember for the rest of his life, no matter how long or short it may be, would be that Hershel Layton at any age was a born ladies' man. Improvisation seemed to be second-nature to him. Upon meeting Miss Olivia Hawkes at the Museum of Science, Luke introduced her to Hershel, naming him as his new apprentice, then encouraged Hershel to try greeting her as a proper gentleman. The boy just about swept her off her feet, bowing with a flourish as he swept off his hat and pressing his lips to the back of her hand in a childish kiss while declaring her to be 'an absolute pleasure to meet'. Luke just about fainted on the spot again; no wonder he had so much trouble keeping those women away from him!

"Quite the charmer!" Olivia giggled, blushing and laughing as Hershel released her hand and plopped his hat back on his head. Luke managed a tight smile and nodded in agreement. "Well, thank you both so much for coming by to visit us. Are there any particular displays you would like to view?" she went on, leading them further into the building and past cases of odd devices and painted charts.

"Actually, I'm in a bit of a bind." Luke admitted cautiously, "I have a pocket-watch in dire need of repair but I doubt I can trust any clockmaker to set his tools to it. Would you happen to know of any persons with the skills to craft clockwork mechanisms for a pocket-watch?" Olivia brightened and nodded, chuckling behind her hand.

"Indeed I do, Sir Luke!" she replied cheerfully, "My grandfather works here in the museum as a handyman of sorts. He maintains all the mechanisms in our automatic moving displays. Since they run on clockwork, he's had many years to hone his skills in the craft." She hurried to another hallway and gestured down the way, "Follow me and I'll take you to meet him!" Luke made to walk over but Olivia held out a hand. "Ah, I'm sorry but I'm afraid you'll have to leave your bag behind. My grandfather is very particular about security and the sight of a bag in the rear of the museum is likely to have him in a tizzy." Luke stopped, startled, and looked down at the satchel, gripping its strap tightly, nervously.

"Um, well..." he stammered slightly. Well, now what? The satchel held many of his things for him, items that weren't to exist in this timeline and items of significant personal value. He couldn't just leave it anywhere; that would be far too dangerous! He felt a tug at his sleeve and looked down at Hershel, who beamed up at him brightly.

"I can look after it, Sir Luke! Please? Let me take care of your bag for you!" he offered eagerly and Luke tightened his grip even further. Olivia laughed easily behind her hand.

"What a good apprentice you have! That's a marvelous idea! Sir Luke can leave his bag with you, of course; everyone knows the trustworthiness of the Layton Family!" she exclaimed and Luke had the sinking sensation that he'd been cornered into a rather nasty trap. If he didn't give the satchel to Hershel now, it'd be like insulting the family name. And if he tried to give warning for him not to look inside, it would be the same thing. Issuing a tiny sigh of resignation, Luke slipped the strap from his shoulder and placed the bag in Hershel's arms, managing a smile for his sake, albeit a bit strained.

"I'll be right back, Hershel. It shouldn't take very long." he remarked instead, hoping that would be warning enough for the boy to stay out of his things. Hershel just beamed all the more brightly while Luke slipped his notebook out of the satchel and pocketed it. If anything, he would keep it on his person for now, just in case. With a hesitant wave, Luke left the boy behind in the main hall of the museum, following Olivia deeper into the rear of the building. Hershel waved back excitedly, waited until Luke and Olivia had vanished into the labyrinth of rooms, then scampered off with a maniacally gleeful giggle.

Olivia led Luke into one of the larger rooms in the museum. It was barely lit, with the glow of some candles being filtered through shelves of wooden display pieces and dusty glass. The curator hurried along eagerly, calling out for her grandfather as Luke looked around himself in mild interest. He hadn't brushed up on this kind of science in a long while, not since sealing off several rooms in the Layton house back in his own time. He mostly stuck with temporal theory and history, researching and preparing for his mission months in advance. Some said that he had taken the historical interest in honor of his mentor, that Professor Layton would have been proud to see his apprentice follow in his steps. Luke ignored the praise, focused on his studies and his work, his training and research for one sole purpose; rewrite the past to prevent his future.

Only that blundering fool of a doctor had miscalculated and stranded him here in the far past.

He paused at one shelf, poking at what was supposed to be a representation of the human heart made with wood and sheepskin, when Olivia hurried to him and started tugging at his sleeve to catch his attention. He allowed her to lead him away again, worrying briefly over his satchel back in Hershel's care, before he snapped to attention and spotted the elderly man bent over a work table in the back of the room, candles scattered around him to light his work. Small cogs and bits of clockwork were spread before him and the man blinked up at him owlishly through large glasses, his tools in hand.

"Sir Luke," Olivia began with a cheerful smile, "this is my grandfather, Barnsworth Hawkes. He can help you with your dilemma." Barnsworth sniffed loudly at hearing what his granddaughter had brought to him, a young man with an unimportant problem.

"You're the one who has trouble with a watch?" he questioned, squinting at him through the large lenses and making himself look comical, "Why not just go to a clockmaker?"

"The pocket-watch is very... unique, as it were. I don't trust the skills of any normal clockmaker to handle this and there are some very delicate secrets embedded in the make of the watch." Luke explained carefully, thinking through his words with caution, "Since you work on the clockwork in the museum, you are the best candidate for adapting to unique devices, and that would be most beneficial to my problem. In addition, you appear to be far more trustworthy in keeping those secrets as they are." The old man squinted more, to the point where it seemed he'd simply shut his eyes, but he seemed more interested than before.

"Then why not send it back to its maker? Surely if you don't wish for the watch's secrets to be uncovered, you would send it back to the one who created it." Barnsworth countered.

"The watch must be repaired as soon as possible, if not immediately. And sadly, the maker of this watch is not with us now." Luke phrased easily, leaving his words open for interpretation.

"I see, I see." the old man mused, pushing away the cogs on his desk, "Right then. Let's have a look at it and see what the issue is." Luke pulled the watch from his pocket and set it down on the desk, keeping it covered as he lifted a finger in warning.

"This is a discreet affair, so please don't record any of the secrets of the mechanism in this watch, and swear not to reveal what you will be working on to anyone." he reminded and looked over at Olivia, "That extends to you as well, madam." The woman blinked in surprise, her hand lifting to her mouth in response.

"Is it really that important, Sir Luke? To keep mum about the repair of your pocket-watch?" she asked in a hushed and slightly awed tone. Her grandfather barked out a harsh laugh, sitting back in his chair and causing Luke to shoot him a stern glare.

"I don't see why you should raise a fuss over it!" Barnsworth guffawed, "The way you talk on about it, you'd say that fixing your watch was a matter of life or death!"

"As a matter of fact, Sir Hawkes," Luke hissed, "it rather is." With that, he lifted his hand from the pocket-watch and stepped back. Barnsworth gave him a strange look, then shrugged and moved closer to inspect his new assignment.

The watch looked nice enough on the outside, a shiny metal that looked golden but proved not to be as it didn't behave like gold did to pressure. The inside was what perplexed the old man, with numbers engraved where they shouldn't be and the hands ticking back and forth over the twelfth hour. It didn't look like it told time properly, which might be the problem. He said as much but Luke corrected him on that. The watch wasn't meant to tell the time, but keep track of it. It didn't make much sense, but he added that the moving hands were supposed to remain suspended like that. Just, not over the twelfth hour. There was also a thirteenth hour that Barnsworth asked about and Luke tightened his mouth at the mention, shaking his head slightly and refusing to give information about it.

When the face was lifted and set aside, the old man was able to take a look at the clockwork mechanism running the pocket-watch. They looked normal enough, being made of metal, and three cogs were cracked, sending the timing out of synch. After studying it a while longer, Barnsworth looked up at Luke with a stern expression.

"Young man, in all my years, I've never seen a watch like this before. I might be able to replace the cogs and repair it, but I'll need more information than you're giving now before I can even hope to attempt putting it together." he told him gravely, "I'll need molds to create the replacement gears, and blueprints to make the molds. I'll need instructions on what this thing does before I can wind it to work that way again. Son, I need to know what this is, before I can help you." Olivia looked between the two men in confusion, hopelessly lost on what was happening. The most she could understand was that Luke's watch wasn't normal. Luke stood fast under the old man's gaze for a long, tense moment, remaining silent as his face became obscured by the shadows of his cap and the dancing candlelight. "If a vow of silence is what you want, then I give it, for myself and Olivia. Not a word will escape our lips until St. Peter asks of it." Barnsworth added sincerely.

The silence went on and Luke's mouth moved, forming words without sound before he truly began to speak.

"Time-Binder. It keeps track of events occurring in the timeline and is set to start the countdown once a specific event takes place." he whispered softly, "I'm sorry that's all I can say about it." He pulled the notebook from his pocket and opened it, pulling a folded scrap of paper from within it and placing it on the table before Barnsworth. "This is a copy of the blueprint that was used to create the pocket-watch. Use it to create the molds and the gears. You'll be helping me save a man's life with this." He pulled his hand away, allowing the old man to gingerly pick it up and unfold it, his eyes sweeping across the diagrams and notes with growing fascination, before his face shifted to a horrified look.

"Young man, this hour marks-!" he began in shock and Luke stiffened, schooling his expression into a fierce glare that killed any further comments.

"My mission is first and foremost, Sir Hawkes." he remarked coldly, "Everything else is nothing and will be nothing when I am successful. And I mean to be successful." With that, he turned and began to leave, pausing suddenly and speaking back over his shoulder, "I'll gladly make a sizable donation to this museum in exchange for your help. It's the least I can do. Thank you." He left Barnsworth and Olivia speechless in the room as he began making his way back to the main hall of the museum.


	7. Chapter 7

Hershel settled himself comfortably on a bench, clutching the bag in his arms and grinning to himself. There must be a lot of interesting things inside it; why else would Sir Luke go through so much trouble to keep it safe and at his side always? A tiny voice in his head reprimanded him, telling him it wasn't a very gentlemanly thing to do to be poking in the private things of other people, but his curiosity was piqued and there wasn't much around to deter him from looking inside the bag.

The smile faded. Except for a punishment. If Sir Luke found out he was going through his bag, Hershel was more than sure he'd be punished severely for it. Oh, what horror would befall him? A switch? He shuddered, wincing in phantom pain. An open hand? He cringed at the thought of it. Or maybe... oh the horror of horrors! A belt! What if he used a belt?!

Wait. Did Sir Luke even have one?

Hershel thought it over, reaching back into his memory to discern whether or not he had such a thing. The majority of the previous night was a flurry of panic and squealing maids, his mother issuing out commands like one of those generals he read about in the papers. And then there was the deadly quiet that surrounded them all when one of the maids hurried up to his mother and whispered something into her ear. She looked startled and Hershel had gotten very worried; his mother never made a face like that. Nothing surprised her; it was impossible to keep secrets from her. She had rushed into the room where the maids had carried Sir Luke's body and he followed quietly, peeking in to see what was going on. His mother was holding something shiny at the table and Sir Luke was lying in bed fast asleep, most of his clothes already removed for changing. Ah-hah! Now Hershel remembered! He did have a belt of sorts, two of them, but they didn't go around his waist. They went over his shoulders, like the bag he carried.

Oh, was he going to get it once Sir Luke returned... Hershel sighed, fidgeting for a moment, then took a deep breath and smiled again. Well, if he was going to get a whipping, then it might as well be worth it! He flicked open the clasp to the satchel and opened it, peering inside. There were lots of papers at first and Hershel picked through a few of them out of curiosity. Too many big words; he frowned at the writing in frustration. His vocabulary was a lot more substantial compared to most other boys his age, but even these words were beyond him. He set the papers aside and went on digging. There was a book on puzzles and Hershel opened it up, eyes going wide at all the different picture puzzles, word puzzles, math puzzles... all kinds! He didn't know Sir Luke liked puzzles; his mother had an affinity for them, too. What was it she liked to say that confounded his father so much? 'Every puzzle has an answer. You must use your wits and knowledge to find that answer. Then no puzzle can stop you from achieving your dreams.'

"Every puzzle has an answer." Hershel echoed and the taste of the words felt right. He hugged the book, then set it aside with more care than he did the papers. Another check of the bag and he pulled out a newspaper clipping, blinking as he read through it. Some of the words had been marked out and the picture had been torn to pieces, but he could make out the phrase 'Professor Hershel Layton laid to rest' and the rest was obscured by ink. The article must have been about his grandfather, Hershel Layton, Sr., who died when Hershel was five years old. He sniffed at the memory of the funeral, then carefully pocketed the clipping. It might not be in good condition but that was probably because Sir Luke must have been very sad by his grandfather's passing. All of London had been at the time.

Hershel went rooting around in the bag one last time, pulling out a glass jar with a cork stopper that held a small coin inside. He blinked at it, confused, and rattled the jar, listening to the coin hit the sides with small clinks. Was this another kind of puzzle? His face took on a pensive expression and he sat very still and quiet, thinking it over.

Luke walked back into the open rooms of the museum and stopped to lean against the wall, drawing his blue jacket closer around himself. There was a bitter taste in his mouth, and he could just imagine Professor Layton scolding him about his behavior. Of the few times he'd ever gotten upset or even angry, a good deal of them came from Luke letting his emotions get the better of him and throwing his gentlemanly lessons to the wind. He never struck Luke, but his words would always cut him to the core. 'I'm very disappointed in you, Luke; I had thought I taught you better.' He didn't act as he should have in that room, and those words replayed in his mind.

"I'm so sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to, but this mission means so much to me." he whispered pleadingly, covering his face with one hand, "I just want to have you back again. I want you and me and Flora together again, as a family. You two were all I had..." The sounds of footsteps behind him snapped him out of his melancholy and he straightened quickly, rubbing at his eyes to wipe away any tears that may have formed. He turned to see who was coming towards him and blinked in surprise to see Olivia hurry towards him, a worried look on her face and her hand clutched over her heart.

"Sir Luke, are you okay? You didn't seem at all like yourself and just now...!" she exclaimed and Luke offered her a weak smile, reaching out to place a hand over hers in comfort.

"I know. It was very unbecoming of me. I apologize for my behavior towards you and your grandfather. I truly appreciate what you've done for me." he murmured and glanced aside, "The pocket-watch brings up painful memories, and I can't always control myself in the presence of those memories." Olivia pursed her mouth, looking saddened by the confession.

"I'm sorry, too. I didn't realize you had such a traumatic history. May I ask what happened? If I'm not being rude, that is." she whispered tearfully. Luke shook his head, pulling his hand back to run through his hair, settling his cap back in place once done.

"My mentor had been killed and I was left alone for a few years. I'm traveling to prevent a similar tragedy from happening to another boy I know." he worded carefully, "I can't say much more than that as I'm also investigating to see who might have caused that death." He managed a small smile. "That's why your grandfather repairing my pocket-watch is so important. It will help me in the investigation." he added and gestured towards the rest of the museum, "That's why I want to donate to this museum. All the money I possess I would gladly trade for the chance to save a life." Olivia smiled back through her tears.

"You truly are a gentleman at heart, Sir Luke." she told him, "Hershel will learn much from you." Luke managed a chuckle at the idea.

"Yes, but I have the feeling he will far surpass me one day. Right, Hershel?" he remarked and turned to look for the small boy, but he wasn't in the immediate area. Luke scanned the room again, quickly, and felt his breath catch. Where was he? And where was his bag?! "Hershel? Hershel?!" he called out again, louder and more panicked, running out with the curator following him quickly.

They searched the museum, room by room, and dread filled Luke from head to toe, filling his mind with all sorts of grim images and possibilities. He'd been followed through time by the murderer and they found Hershel, a random pedophile took a liking to him and kidnapped the boy, he wandered outside and was struck down by a passing carriage or motorcar... thousands of scenarios flashed through his mind and he grew more and more panicked with each second Hershel wasn't found.

"Hershel!" he cried, voice rising to near hysterical ranges as he tore through the rooms, eyes wide and frantic, "Hershel Layton, answer me! Where are you?!" Olivia rushed in after him, unnoticed by the young man as he scanned the area for the boy in the familiar brown top hat and cloak, finally spotting him slumped on a bench and surrounded by papers and his open bag. Luke stood frozen in place, face turning ashen at the sight of the little figure. Not again, not again...!

He found him slumped against the bookshelf in his office, surrounded by papers and books scattered on the floor. Luke's first thought was that the Professor had simply fallen asleep there, sitting on the floor after solving a difficult puzzle. But as he drew closer and called to him, he noticed spatterings of red on those papers and books, and then on the Professor's clothes. His eyes followed the trail in horror, drawing a scream from his mouth when he saw the stain that completely covered Professor Layton's orange shirt.

The scene played through again, overlapping what he saw before him as Luke slowly walked forward, hand reaching out to collect the jar and set it aside. He bit his lip fearfully, then set his fingertips against the boy's neck; warm and there was a pulse. Olivia stayed behind, watching with a puzzled look before understanding what happened and gazing more warmly at the scene. Hershel squirmed slightly under the sudden contact, knocking his hat off his head as he blinked sleepily up at his mentor.

"Sir Luke? When-? What-?" he asked in confusion, looking around himself as the young man choked back a sob, gripping his shoulders tightly with both hands.

"Why didn't you stay in the main hall? Do you have any idea what I went through just now? You're not supposed to wander off; what if you'd gotten hurt or worse?" Luke growled softly, hiding his face in the shadows of his cap again. Hershel squeaked at the tightening grip on his shoulders, struggling to get loose, and the young man finally loosened his hold, pulling back to check him more thoroughly for any injury. "Hershel, don't ever do that to me again!" he shouted, startling the boy further, and finally took in the sight of the papers and jar, his eyes narrowing as his mouth closed shut, lips pressed into a thin line. "You went into my bag." Luke murmured tonelessly. Hershel swallowed hard, shaking fearfully.

"I'm sorry, Sir Luke! I was just curious!" he stammered and flinched, drawing back and expecting a smack when Luke moved. But instead of doing anything to him, the blue-clad teen simply began gathering the papers and books, packing them away in the satchel. Hershel blinked and sat there in silence, watching with a confused look as Luke finished cleaning up, slung the satchel back over his shoulder and picked up the small jar, gazing into it as he sat down beside him. "Sir Luke?" Hershel called softly, brokenly, "Are you... angry? With me?" Luke remained quiet, simply looking into the jar and tracing his finger along the surface of the glass.

"This jar..." he finally said, just as Hershel was getting ready to break into tears of guilt and shame, "I found this jar long ago. It reminded my mentor of a puzzle and he set me to working on it. After I solved it, I asked if I could take the jar. It had been left on the ground, thrown away. Surely he wouldn't object to it, right?" He laughed hollowly and shook his head. "He said no. And he was quite adamant about it. It was a filthy jar, he told me, covered in germs. What if I got sick from handling it? Yet he asked me to pull a scrap of painting from inside it, and once I did, he immediately cleaned off my fingers with his handkerchief." Luke shrugged helplessly, a sad smile on his face, "So I turned his words against him. Said that if he could carry a dirty handkerchief, then I could take along a dirty jar. And he just looked at me. 'That is true.' he said to me and he sounded so wrong when he said it." Luke shuddered, the memory still sending chills up his back. "He picked up the jar and gave it to me and didn't speak to me at all for a whole hour. I felt so horrible, like I had betrayed him in some way." he whispered, "I cleaned up the jar and boiled it to make it as new as possible, bought a cork to fit into it and showed it to the Pro- I mean, my mentor. He took it in his hand and looked at it, then hugged me. I couldn't understand why."

"Maybe he was sorry he said something mean? And he thought the clean jar meant that you were sorry you said something mean, too?" Hershel suggested carefully, picking up his top hat and putting it back on, "Maybe he wanted you to not do anything that could make you sick or get hurt, but when you said those things to each other, you hurt yourselves worse than the jar and handkerchief could do." Luke managed a grin at that.

"I suppose you're right." he remarked and placed a hand on his shoulder, "And what happened just now, reminded me of that pain. I'm sorry. For yelling at you like that, I mean." He put the jar away and sighed, giving Hershel a fresh stern gaze. "Now, what did you see in my bag?" he asked firmly. What did Hershel expose himself to that could alter his future? The boy fidgeted.

"Just some papers that I couldn't read and a puzzle book and the jar." he replied and brightened at the mention of the book, "There were lots of puzzles in the book! Do you like puzzles, Sir Luke?" Luke smiled warmly, touching fingers to the bag.

"I love puzzles. They remind me of my mentor; every time I do one, it feels like he's still standing by me, encouraging me to solve them, to push myself further." he replied and sighed, "But lately, I've started losing my touch. Without his voice, his very presence, it feels like I'm grasping at a fading memory." He reached out to the air, fingers trailing as though trying to catch something invisible to the naked eye, "Grasping for a ghost of a man who has left this world. And I feel a part of me die each time I find a puzzle harder and harder to solve." Luke sighed again and brought his hand back, shaking his head. "But, I'm working on fixing that. I'm going to find a way to stop that before it starts." he remarked cheerfully, "I won't rest until I succeed!" Hershel threw up his hands and cheered. "Would you like to hear the puzzle of the jar? It's time for us to go get a bite to eat and a puzzle will stir up an appetite." Luke added, standing up and holding out his hand for Hershel to grab on.

"Yes, please, Sir Luke!" the boy exclaimed, grabbing on and tagging along as they walked to Olivia.

"Thank you again, for everything." Luke told her, bowing before her, "Do you mind if I ask how long the repairs might take?" The curator smiled warmly back at him.

"They should take a week at the most, provided nothing pulls my grandfather's attention away from your watch." she replied and laid a hand on the lapel of his jacket, "For what it's worth, I'm sure your mentor would be proud to know you're doing all you can to prevent tragedy and for carrying on in his name. Return at the end of the week; we'll have news of the repairs then." Luke thanked her once more and walked Hershel out of the museum.

"Now, for that puzzle." he remarked to the boy with a grin, "There is a jar with a germ inside of it. Every minute, it divides. In one hour, the jar is filled with germs. If you have that same jar, and you start with two germs, how long will it take in minutes to fill the jar with germs?" Hershel took on the pensive expression again, going quiet as the two of them made their way to a local restaurant.


	8. Chapter 8

"You're thinking too hard on it." Luke remarked with a smirk as he watched the boy sitting across from him struggle internally with the puzzle. Hershel snorted, covered his mouth and nose with his hand when Luke glared at him for it, then grabbed the brim of his top hat in frustration. They sat at a little table in a nearby restaurant, with cups of tea and plates of sandwiches set before them. For the past few minutes, Hershel had scribbled and scrawled numbers on every scrap of paper he could get his hands on, trying desperately to solve the puzzle and turning red with frustration and annoyance that he couldn't get the answer.

"Thirty minutes!" the boy finally exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Luke sighed over his cup of tea, shaking his head.

"It was wrong the first five times you said it, and it will continue to be wrong. Don't think so hard about it." he remarked and sipped at the beverage. Hershel scowled and went back to his paper, biting into a sandwich in savage fury. Luke watched him, resting his chin on the back of one hand as he looked over the myriad of scribblings on the scrap sheet. The boy glared at the paper, chewing angrily, then took another drink of his tea before setting back to work at the puzzle. He squinted at it, tilted his head back and forth, sighed harshly and sat back in his seat with a pout, arms folded over his chest.

"Giving up?" Luke asked of him, feeling a mild disappointment at it. Hershel glared at him and Luke lifted an eyebrow.

"No." the boy shot back and looked away, still pouting, "Every puzzle has an answer. I want to find this one on my own." Luke blinked at him in surprise. At this age, he was saying that already? Hershel lifted a hand to his mouth, curling his fingers as he sank back into consideration. For a brief moment, Luke saw the future Professor Layton in that expression, eyes crinkling slightly as he turned the facts over in his mind and sifted the solution out from the mess of red herrings and deceptive wording. And then the moment passed as Hershel snapped back to alertness, a startled gasp issuing from his mouth. "Oh! Was it really that easy the whole time?" he exclaimed and turned to Luke with wide eyes, "The answer's fifty-nine minutes, isn't it, Sir Luke?" Luke smiled broadly, feeling genuinely happy for the first time in a very long while.

"That's exactly right. Can you tell me why?" he asked and Hershel nodded eagerly.

"The germs aren't splitting faster just because there's more of them. All that happened is you skipped a minute by starting with two germs! You only take a minute off the time!" he exclaimed brightly, throwing his hands up in triumph, "I did it!"

"Yes, you did. Now finish your lunch so we can head back to the Layton estate." Luke agreed, pulling his notepad free and writing new notes into it. Olivia's grandfather, Barnsworth Hawkes, was in charge of clockwork mechanisms in the Museum of Science. Both were sworn to secrecy concerning his pocket-watch as they were now repairing it. He would have to return in a week to check on it. Hershel wasn't able to understand the research and legal documents stored in his bag, but he'd been fascinated by the book of puzzles and the jar with St. Mystere's hint coin. He was already stating one of his famous quotes, 'Every puzzle has an answer', and had some amount of trouble solving a puzzle that Luke had easily solved. This was probably due to his tendency to over-analyze problems, which might have been a result of his father's pressures and strict upbringing.

Luke glanced up now and then as he wrote, checking on Hershel's progress through the sandwiches. He'd gone through a few of them already and would occasionally start bouncing on his seat for no real reason. Luke had to correct him on the behavior each time. The boy would apologize and then glance across the street, a faintly calculating look on his face. After another minute or so of looking, Hershel reached across the table, patting the cloth to pull Luke's attention from the facts in his notepad. The young man looked up at him in concern and mild annoyance.

"What is it, Hershel? Are you ready to leave?" he asked and Hershel lifted a finger to his lips, eyes looking less like an eager boy's and more like an alerted street urchin who knew when things had gone wrong.

"Don't move too suddenly and look from the corner of your eyes." Hershel whispered sternly, "There's a man across the street who was watching you while you were writing. He's creepy." Luke stiffened, eyes widening as they slid to look askance at the street. Just on the edge of his peripheral vision, there was a blurry figure standing some distance away. He made to get up and Hershel grabbed his cuff, glaring up at him. "Don't move. If you move, you let him know you saw him. He'll run away and you won't be able to get him to ask why he was watching you." he warned.

"What makes you think he's watching me and not you?" Luke asked softly, picking up his teacup and trying to put on a relaxed facade as Hershel retreated to his own seat, fiddling with his own cup.

"Because he didn't do anything whenever I acted up, but every time you moved, he did this with his hands on those weird glasses he was wearing." he replied quietly and held out his hands, shifting them as if to adjust two dials. Luke puzzled over the motions, then gasped.

"Binoculars!" he murmured and looked up at Hershel in surprise, "So all those instances of you acting up were...?" Hershel nodded, silently filling in the rest of the question. "Let's go." Luke muttered grimly and stood up, "I don't like this feeling of being spied on. Thank you, for spotting him. Can you tell me what he looks like, since I can't turn to look?" Hershel nodded again.

"Act normal." he whispered and suddenly jumped from his chair and lunged at him, grabbing one hand and spinning him around while yelling in the air gleefully. Luke cried out in surprise, spinning around with him to keep his arm from being twisted, then running as Hershel dragged him away from the street, still shouting. As soon as they left the view of the restaurant, he stopped and looked up at Luke. "He had a big ugly nose and some hair growing out from it and pointy hair on his head and hair on his chin. He was really old-looking, like Grandfather Layton had been, but not as nice. He didn't smile, except for when you moved." he recalled and shivered, hugging himself, "I don't like him. I don't like the way he looked at you." Luke took in the trembling figure and sighed. Something was wrong if someone had taken such an interest in him.

"Come on. Let's get back to my scooter and get you home. Your mother is going to want a report on what you've learned today." he finally said and led the boy back out to locate the parked scooter and get going.

Giving his report was awkward for Luke. Harold Layton was home for once and lifted an eyebrow at some points, but said nothing. Helena laughed eagerly over the highlights of the day and clapped her hands proudly when Hershel chipped in the fact that he had solved a tricky puzzle. Both of them conveniently left out any mentions of the strange old man spying on Luke. Hershel showed off his new coat and top hat to his mother, who seemed to be delighted at his wardrobe additions. Harold gave Luke a strange sort of glare, then motioned him to come closer, which Luke obeyed after a moment's hesitation.

"I appreciate you getting him into a top hat. It is, after all, the trademark of the Layton men, but Hershel always seemed rebellious against it." he murmured in confidence and Luke blinked in shock. The older man misinterpreted the reason behind the reaction and nodded. "It would have been scandalous to have a Layton without his top hat, so I thank you for encouraging this change of heart in him." he added sincerely and looked puzzled as Luke stepped back from him with growing horror.

"I... I'm sorry... Please, excuse me!" he cried and fled the parlor for his room. Hershel stopped showing off and watched him run away in concern, looking first at the doorway, then his father.

"What did you do to him?" he asked with a frown, "Don't scare away my new mentor, Father!" Harold only huffed and waved a hand as though to shoo him away. Hershel scowled and ran off as well. Just as the older man made to stand and go after him, Helena reached out and placed a hand on his arm, a demure smile on her lips.

"Leave my puzzle be, Harold." she murmured and looked up at her husband with sparkling eyes, "I've not decided whether to solve him myself or let Hershel do the honors in my stead." The current Professor Layton huffed again and sat back down, picking up his cup of tea.

"I'll never understand what your fascination with puzzles is all about, dearest, but you've yet to prove yourself inaccurate when it comes to uncovering the secrets behind them." he muttered gruffly and took a sip. Helena smiled wider, lifting a finger to her chin in delicate consideration.

Luke curled up miserably in bed, one hand resting on a crinkled photo beside him. It had been taken ages ago in his time, before that tragic day. He and Flora and the Professor had gone out for a picnic in the park, and one of the street vendors offered to take a picture of them. So he and Flora teamed up to beg and pester and bribe the Professor into letting them take the photo. And of course, Professor Layton shot down each attempt with a gentle smile and a reminder that he was a gentleman. In the end, they caught on to his impromptu puzzle, asked him politely and added a 'please' and the Professor cheerfully relented and stood between them in the picture, laughing as Flora cried out that her hair wasn't just right and Luke stood so close to him, he nearly fell onto the man. It was perfect and beautiful and a painful reminder that such happiness would not last forever.

One week later, Professor Layton was dead, Flora returned to St. Mystere in anguish and Luke was almost forced back into an orphanage had the Professor not willed his estate to him and Flora. The girl refused to return and Luke remained alone in the little house that had once been full of joy and love and puzzles and laughter. It had been hell.

"Was I meant to be here, Professor? To ensure you would grow up to be who you were? To be the great Professor Hershel Layton, archaeologist and puzzle-solving detective?" Luke whispered tearfully, then choked back a half-hearted laugh, "Oh, that's right. You never liked being called a detective. Didn't go to college for that, did you?" The door to his room creaked and he quickly shoved the photo under his pillow, sitting up and turning to see who entered the room. Hershel stood in the doorway, peeking into the bedroom with a worried look.

"Sir Luke? May I come in?" he asked quietly. Luke wiped his tears away and nodded. The boy padded in and climbed onto the bed, snuggling up next to him in a hug. "I'm sorry my father made you cry." he apologized softly, sounding on the verge of tears himself. Luke had stiffened at the sudden contact, then relaxed, returning the hug with one arm, using the other to support himself on the bed.

"It's all right, Hershel. It's not your fault." he replied, gazing out of the window at the evening sky, "An old memory came back to me, that's all. I couldn't contain myself, so I excused myself from the room. I didn't mean to worry you." They sat there in silence for a while, then Hershel sat up with a sudden smile.

"My favorite place! We can go there to cheer you up!" he exclaimed and tugged on Luke's hand, "Come on! You've got house slippers now; put them on and we'll go sit at my fountain!" Luke made various half-hearted protests, but found himself pulling on the slippers and following the boy out to the fountain in front of the house. The maids whispered and giggled behind their hands as he walked behind Hershel and Luke found himself feeling flustered and embarrassed for some reason.

They made it outside and Hershel ran for the fountain, laughing gaily and dancing about with childish abandon. Luke walked towards it more sedately, hands in his pockets as his coat billowed out behind him from the wind. He watched with a small smile as Hershel climbed onto the edge of the fountain and walked on its surface, greeting the fish in the basin. The wind kicked up suddenly and whisked his top hat off, causing the boy to cry out and reach for it vainly. Luke made a quick leap to snatch it out of the air and held it out to Hershel, who thanked him profusely and put it back on, smiling widely up at him. The teen rolled his eyes good-naturedly and took a seat on the fountain, gazing into the pond. It was nice to see the fish again, and it was just as calming and soothing as ever.

With the sounds of crickets in the air, Luke and Hershel talked quietly, sometimes laughing over a joke or something the fish did, sometimes working on puzzles. Hershel was curious about Luke's past and often asked to hear stories of his time with his own mentor. Luke replied vaguely, then finally explained that he couldn't talk more about it. It hurt too much. Hershel told stories of the adventures he had with the rough boys of the lesser income houses. He'd see them in school the next day and promised to keep Luke a secret from them. The young man lectured him on using what he learned from the boys for ill behaviors, like stealing pocket-watches and causing ruckuses in the streets. Hershel rubbed his head and laughed, promising to use his light-fingered skills for good causes.

All was well and good until Hershel paused and glanced towards the front gate to the property, then looked chilled, his eyes wide with alarm. Luke asked what was wrong and made to look for himself but Hershel grabbed his hand tightly and looked away, staring back at the fish.

"The man from earlier is here. He got past the gate and is standing near the trees." he whispered in a terrified tone, "I saw the light from the house shine off those weird glasses of his, the binoculars. He's watching you again." Luke's mouth went dry, a nervous sweat breaking out on his forehead as he thought through his options. He had his dagger with him, so he could fight if need be. But what if he inflicted an injury that altered the timeline? And what of Hershel? He couldn't let him see violence like that! On top of that, he knew nothing about the mysterious man stalking him. What he wanted, whether he was armed or not, if he was truly a threat to him or Hershel; he had no information at all!

"Hershel, run inside and don't come out." he finally whispered fiercely and the boy looked up at him in alarm, "You heard me. Run into the house and don't come out at all! If this man is after me, then you are in danger the longer you are here with me."

"But, Sir Luke, I-!" Hershel began to protest and Luke broke out of his grasp.

"Get inside, now! Call a constable if you must, but leave me!" he snapped and the boy yelped, rushing off the fountain and running for the house. Once the door was shut, he turned to scan the yard, looking for the glint of light Hershel had said was what pinpointed the man's location. He couldn't see it anywhere; had the boy been wrong? Luke scoffed mentally; this was the future Professor Layton! Of course he couldn't be wrong!

But he answered the puzzle incorrectly several dozen times in a row earlier...

There was a faint rustle of leaves and Luke immediately got to his feet, turning towards the direction of the sound. Something flew at him, he saw a blur and heard the thwip of something elastic cutting through air, then his arms and legs were suddenly immobile. He yelled in alarm, feeling his balance go completely haywire and he hit the fountain with his freshly bound legs, tipping himself just enough to fall towards the basin. Luke managed to gulp down a lungful of air before plunging helplessly into the water.


	9. Chapter 9

Hershel rushed inside the house, crying and shrieking for help, gathering the attentions of a few of the maids in their clean up duties. One knelt and held out her hands to him.

"Master Hershel! Calm down! Whatever is the matter?" she asked worriedly and Hershel grabbed onto her hand, tugging insistently.

"Sir Luke's in trouble! There's a man outside who was watching him and Luke told me to come inside and get help!" he cried, waving an arm towards the door, "Please! Help me!" The maids all rushed to him immediately, chattering excitedly as they followed Hershel back to the front doors of the manor. Sir Luke was in trouble! They couldn't let anything happen to that handsome young teacher, heavens no!

They poured out of the manor in a flock of black and white dresses and pinafores, spreading out to call Luke's name and search the grounds for signs of the intruder. Hershel hurried towards the fountain, where he spotted some movement and heard violent thrashing, the sounds of water being splashed around. Several of the maids joined him in running for the fountain, calling out for Sir Luke and helpfully adding in 'Murder! Rape! Villainy!' to draw attention to that specific spot.

A shadowy figure jumped back, startled, then rushed into the cover of the topiaries and trees as Hershel's group reached them. Luke lay in the water of the fountain, coughing and gasping for air, an absolute mess after the struggle he had put up. Hershel wailed and sat down on the ground, hands lifted to his eyes as the maids set to work pulling the bound teenager from the basin and setting him onto the cobblestone drive. They couldn't make heads or tails of the thick black bands that held his arms and legs immobile, but the girls set to work cutting through them with whatever scissors they had on hand for sewing.

"Master Hershel, please don't cry. Sir Luke is safe now and we've chased away the bad man that did this." one of the maids tried to comfort the boy.

"But! But! But! But he almost drowned!" Hershel sobbed, "And it would have been my fault! I brought him outside to see the fountain and the man followed us and Luke told me to run away and then... and then...!"

"H-He-sch-il..." Luke choked out, coughing up water as the maids gathered around him to keep him supported, some of them fanning air towards him. The boy looked over at him in shock, then quickly crawled to his side, throwing his arms around him in a hug and sobbing his apologies anew. Luke lifted a hand, reaching blindly before touching on his back. A weak hug and then Luke faded from awareness, causing Hershel to scream in a panic all over again.

It had taken the efforts of his mother and father combined to get Hershel to stop screaming as the maids tended to Sir Luke for the second time that week. Even then, Harold had given up on getting his son to do anything but stare in vacant-eyed horror, arms stretched out as though trying to grab the young man in the next room for protection. As a last resort, which Helena greatly disapproved of, he dipped his handkerchief in a small amount of chloroform and held it to Hershel's nose. His eyes widened even further, then slowly closed, the boy sinking into his bed with a haggard sigh.

"An unpleasant sleep aid." Helena huffed, sitting on the bed and running her fingers through Hershel's hair, stroking his face to smooth away the frantic lines and soothe his still restless slumber. She glanced over her shoulder at her husband. "Go check on Luke; see if he's recovered from that attack. We won't be calling the constable for this." she added firmly. Harold lifted an eyebrow, then dipped his head and left the room.

The maids had settled down some, going about their work with a grim silence as clothes were gathered to change Sir Luke's outfit and a certain dagger was stowed in the young man's satchel. Harold stood at the side of the bed, looking down at the mentor his wife had hired with a strange mix of emotions; disdain, concern, apprehension. He couldn't understand Helena's fascination with him, nor his son's vicious attachment, strong enough to rend all manner of sense from his head at the sight of him in danger. Luke didn't look like much to him, and dressed like a young man of the lesser income families. If anything, he should have been hired as a serving boy. Yet the quality of gentlemanly behavior he presented was of the upper class; Layton quality, if he didn't know better.

The young man lay there in equally restless sleep, twisting and turning from time to time, sluggishly though, evidence of a drug having been used on him. Noting that he moved similarly to Hershel, Harold concluded that the attacker had also administered chloroform. To kill Luke? He reached down, fingering the creases on the collar of Luke's shirt, then stroking the young man's hair lightly with the back of his hand. His bangs were drier in comparison to the rest of his hair. Harold lifted his hand to his chin in thought, considering what he was able to glean from the maids and this new information. Whoever attacked the young man was looking to capture him, not kill. His collar was creased badly, from being grabbed roughly. His hair was drier around his face than anywhere else, from having his face exposed to air soon after his evening plunge. Someone had pulled him from the fountain, trying to gain control over him.

A quick check of Luke's arms by carefully pushing up the sleeves revealed scrapes and bruises. Obviously, Luke had struggled against his attempted kidnapper, so the criminal used chloroform to subdue him. By then the maids had reached them and he was abandoned, staying conscious just long enough to try assuring Hershel. No help there; if anything he made Hershel even more panicked. The real question now was simply this; did Luke see the face of his attacker?

Luke groaned softly, face twisting into a faint grimace as his fingers twitched.

"Professor..." he murmured, tears seeping from the corners of his eyes. Harold left the room immediately after.

Getting Hershel to school the next day was a riot. The boy screamed in protest, refused to leave his bed and kicked his school clothes off the dresser. When the maids tried dressing him by force, he broke free and ran for the room where Luke stayed, sending the maids out there into a flurry of red faces and covered eyes at seeing their youngest master running about buck-naked. Hershel was akin to demon possessed in his efforts to get out of leaving the house. Harold tried his usual list of threats and punishments, roaring louder and louder, and nothing got through. Helena stepped in before anything more physically threatening could take place and pulled Hershel aside. Whatever she said to his ear had worked, for his eyes suddenly went wide and he rushed for his room, not coming out until he was properly dressed, had his little silk hat in place and carried his own school satchel at his side. Smiling gently, Helena led him out to be taken by the chauffeur to school, only to discover the boy had developed a fear of the fountain, screaming again at the sight of it.

Once Hershel was finally out of sight and out of mind in that lovely purgatory called school, the two of them set their sights on discovering what exactly had happened that night at the fountain.

They searched the fountain itself first, ordering the maids to reconstruct what they saw and did to best of their ability. The black bands were retrieved from inside the house and given to Harold and Helena for examination. Helena turned them over in her hands, passing one of the two sets over to her husband for inspection. He eyed them carefully, pulling at their ends and frowning.

"Elastic of some kind. Not quite rubber, but very close. Difficult to cut through, these ends are very uneven." he commented gruffly.

"They are rather wide and soft, to avoid doing too much harm. These were meant to bind and hold, not bind and crush." Helena added softly, placing her set with her husband and walking to the fountain, eyeing it carefully before turning to the maids, "Did Sir Luke have any injuries to his legs?" A few of them blushed profusely and one stepped forward, stammering her answer.

"Y-yes, Madam. There was a bruise on his right shin that we noticed when changing his clothing. We've bandaged it as well as his arms. There was also a small scrape on his cheek that we also bandaged." she reported and stepped back. Helena frowned slightly and looked back at her husband.

"Most probably came from his struggling against the chloroform being pressed to his nose and mouth." he concluded, pushing his glasses up his nose. Helena turned around and stood by the fountain, a pensive expression on her face.

"He bruised his right shin, so he was standing like this when he fell in." she murmured and began walking forward, "Luke is a rather alert and wary young man. If he heard anything suspicious, he would turn in the direction of the sound. If he faced this way before falling, then the origin of his suspicions must lie in this direction." The maids and her husband followed her, carefully looking around until one of the maids squealed, pointing at something in the grass. Harold and Helena rushed to her and looked at where she pointed.

A pile of strange metal pieces lay broken among the grass, near a pair of footprints far too large to belong to anyone in the Layton estate. Harold knelt and pulled out a handkerchief, moving the metal around until he got a semblance of what it used to be. Some sort of rifle, but of a fantastic design.

"Someone was pointing this at my son." he growled dangerously, standing up as Helena put her finger to her chin again.

"No, dear. They were shooting at Luke. Luke and Hershel were outside, Hershel spotted the stranger and Luke sent him inside the house for safety. Once Hershel had left, Luke was attacked and nearly kidnapped." the woman deduced and her eyes glittered again, "To this intruder, Luke was far more valuable to obtain than our little boy."

"But, why? Hershel is a Layton; our wealth and prestige makes us among some of the most famous in the city, if not the country!" Harold protested, waving a hand wildly in irritation, "What about that teacher makes him a fairer prize than a Layton?" Helena laughed cheerily behind her hand.

"Therein lies the puzzle, dearest!" she teased and began walking back to the house, "Let's see if our dear Sir Luke is well enough to shine a little light on this for you."

"I don't remember anything." Luke stated flatly, looking out the window with a scowl rather than facing the two Laytons, arms folded over his chest as he sat in bed, "I didn't see anything either. I heard some noises, I felt myself getting tangled in something, then I fell in the fountain. Someone tried to pull me out, but the streetlights were behind them, so I couldn't see. Then I felt light-headed and passed out. I don't know anything else, and if I did anything else, I don't remember." Harold and Helena glanced at each other from their chairs, then looked back at him with more scrutiny.

"What of the lights from the manor? Surely they would have cast illumination on the face of your attacker." Harold remarked dubiously. Luke seemed to tighten his expression before resuming the uncaring look.

"The fountain basins were blocking the light behind me, so nothing could get through to do so." he muttered and sighed harshly, "Look, I appreciate you wanting to know who did this to exact some justice, but it doesn't matter to me. All I wish to know is if Hershel is safe. That's all I care about now."

"He is perfectly fine. He is in school right now, safe and sound." Helena returned, a strange smile on her face, "But he's developed an irrational fear of the fountain outside now. Absolutely won't go near it without screaming his lungs loose." Luke closed his eyes in a pained expression.

"Bloody hell, so that explains..." he whispered and cut himself off, running his hands through his hair, "I am deeply sorry for that, Lady Layton, Sir Layton. If there's anything I can do to make amends for causing that..."

"Tell us what you really saw, then, boy." Harold growled, "You're keeping a secret and my wife knows it. She's giving you the chance to clear yourself." Luke only sat there, mouth closed in a thin line as he glared back at the older man.

"He smelled of smoke, and something acrid. I remember that scent from when I was a child." he finally muttered, "And the rest is best left unsaid, for your own sakes as well as mine." He lifted a hand to his temple, grimacing slightly. "Please, may I be left alone for now? I feel horrid and some rest would probably be helpful." he added weakly. The Laytons stood and left the room in silence. Helena paused at the doorway, then looked back at the young man in bed.

"Sir Luke, I do not know the details of your past, nor can I clearly understand them." she admitted softly, "But I do know that for reasons beyond our knowledge, you are here for a purpose, and at the same time, not. Why else would you alternate between keeping my son at your side and pushing him away from yourself?" With that, she left the room, Luke staring after her with startled eyes.

The Professor walked around the pantries in the kitchen, then peered into the cooler, taking notes on what needed to be bought to replenish their food stores. Luke sat at the table, watching him with the same adoration he always felt for his mentor. He made even the slightest tasks seem so refined and Luke always felt blessed that he was the great man's apprentice and assistant. After a few minutes, the gentleman stood still, looking out a window with a slight frown before turning to him cheerfully.

"Luke, my boy, why don't you and Flora do the shopping today? I have some matters to attend to in the office. Once I've cleared them up, I'll come join you at the market." he suggested and Luke's smile dropped away in disappointment.

"But, Professor, we always go shopping together! Can't those matters wait until after we get back? Please?" he whined and the older man only smiled wider and shook his head.

"Now, Luke, this would be a good lesson on maintaining your behavior without my constant presence. Are you able to correct yourself without needing me?" he remarked and winked at him, "I have every confidence you can, Luke." He handed the list to him and a wallet. "Run along now, you and Flora both. I shouldn't be more than an hour behind you, all right?" Luke sighed dejectedly as he accepted the list and money.

"If you say so, Professor." he murmured and headed out of the kitchen. He stopped for a second, out of a strange impulse, and looked back at his mentor, confused as to why he still stood in the kitchen, eyes straying towards the window even as he pushed the chair Luke had abandoned back under the table. Shrugging it off as one of the Professor's little quirks, he resumed his own little quest. "Flora! The Professor wants us to go shopping without him today!" he called out and the girl rushed downstairs with her jacket on, a puzzled look on her face.

"But why? We always do the grocery shopping together." she questioned and Luke shrugged.

"He said he had some things to do and will catch up to us later." he replied and grinned, holding up the list and wallet, "Let's get started! If we hurry with the groceries, we can meet him halfway and then go to the park and feed the fish! Maybe even get another picture!" Flora laughed joyfully as she walked with him out of the house.

"What a wonderful idea, Luke! But you know he won't go near the fountain. He always tells us to be very careful around it." she reminded him and the boy sighed, rolling his eyes even as he smiled at the memory of the Professor's vocal objections to going near the park's fountain the first time he saw it.

"It's not even that deep. Why on earth is he so scared of it?" he remarked, then laughed as he answered his own question, "Oh! Maybe he's afraid that the fish will jump and splash him with water!" They laughed over such a silly idea as they went on their way.

"Noooo!" Luke screamed out, thrashing in bed until he was upright and reaching out blindly, trying desperately to pull them back, to drag his younger self and Flora back into the house where they could at least hold the attention of whomever it was that had killed the Professor that day. And then the dream faded and true vision sank in and Luke could only hug himself and sob bitterly over his knowledge. What had happened to him here had already affected the future for this time; Professor Layton disliked fountains greatly and he had never known why until now. His fault, it was all his fault. He bit his lip, narrowing his eyes as he dug the fingers of one hand into his hair to hold his head and quell the throbbing. "Just hang on, Professor. Hang in there, Luke. All you need to do is prevent that murder, and wait for the thirteenth hour." he whispered, "Everything will sort itself out on the thirteenth hour."


	10. Chapter 10

Hershel returned from school, taking a path that gave him wide berth around the fountain, then made his way into the house, looking pale and weary from the day. His head had hurt and he spent most of his time there worrying over Sir Luke. How was he supposed to stay safe if Hershel wasn't with him? Who else had the thieves' skill for noticing out-of-place things and people in certain environments? Certainly not Luke; he had that air to him that seemed to suggest he relied on his aloofness to deter interaction with people, but was a gem of a man if forced to speak with people.

He wasn't even certain how it was he'd fallen asleep the night before; he was in far too much of a panic to even think of it. All he wanted was to grab onto Sir Luke and make sure he didn't suddenly disappear or anything. That creepy man had been watching Luke the whole time, at the restaurant, at the manor... and the whole time he was smiling. Smiling! Like he was watching something he really, really liked and wanted to have. Such a dirty smile, such a dirty man. Why did he have to fall asleep like that? What if that man had come back to the house while they were all asleep and stolen Sir Luke away?

Hershel dragged the school satchel behind him as he headed up the stairs, feeling sick and worried. Maybe they should have called a constable to come and look things over. Then he could find the creepy old man and take him away and Sir Luke would be safe with them forever! He managed a tiny smile at the thought, then trudged towards Luke's room, wanting to check in on him first before doing anything else. He knocked at the door, then pushed it open a crack to peek inside.

Sir Luke was pulling his blue coat on, glaring at himself in the mirror as he straightened it to look proper. He looked right angry and Hershel gulped, hoping he wasn't the reason Luke was so angry. After a moment, he had pulled on his blue cap and turned away from the mirror, spotting the door open and looking surprised.

"Hershel! How long have you been there?" he exclaimed, walking quickly towards the door and opening it completely. The boy fidgeted.

"Only a little bit. You looked very angry, Sir Luke." he murmured in response, "Was it something I did?" He blinked as the young man knelt before him and placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a small but reassuring smile.

"No, not you. I was angry with myself. There were some things I remembered that didn't make sense until now, and I was angry with myself for not realizing it then." he explained and chuckled, "Which is rather silly now that I think of it; there was no way of knowing back then things that I learned here and now." Hershel managed a smile in return, then let it fade as he reached up to touch the bandage on Luke's cheek.

"That scary man hurt you, didn't he?" he murmured and sniffled, feeling tears start up again. His fault, all his fault! Luke shook his head, still smiling.

"Not really. I only got a little hurt and that was because of my own carelessness. Don't worry; I'm fine and I'm here. I'm not going anywhere until my watch is repaired." he replied and stood at last, folding his arms over his chest with a smirk, "So, shortstuff, ready to work on your homework?" Hershel scrounged up a smile, trying his best to ignore his headache, and nodded. "All right. Let's go to the parlor; more light and open air will help you study."

They sat across from each other at a table in the parlor, Hershel working on the assignment given to him by his teachers and Luke taking down notes in his little book again. The young man looked grim as he carefully wrote down the new information. Things weren't going very well at all. Both Layton parents were growing more suspicious of him, considering his noncooperation in releasing any information to them about his past or his attacker. Luke clenched his teeth at the memory of the attack. Even without getting a clear look, even in half-delirium from water in his lungs and chloroform filling his senses, that smell of smoke cut through it all, a sharper clue of his attacker's identity than anything Scotland Yard could ask for.

Don Paolo.

How the blazes did that man follow him through time anyway? As far as Luke knew, there was only one Time-Binder device and it was in his possession! And why bother with trying to kill Hershel in this time when he had already been successful in murdering Professor Layton later in the timeline? Unless... He put a hand to his cheek, resting his fingertips against the bandage as he reconsidered that thought. Don Paolo hadn't fired on Hershel, and he hadn't paid any attention to him at the restaurant; Hershel proved it himself by causing a ruckus and being completely ignored. No, the scientist's focus had been entirely on Luke, which meant that his choice of targets had changed. Was he going to be next in being killed, and had he already done away with Flora?

Luke's hands clenched into fists as the thought of sweet Flora being murdered as brutally as Professor Layton had been sent chills down his spine. No, no! He couldn't let that happen either! Not now that he had realized, soon after the time-travel project was started, that he...

Hershel looked up at him worriedly and Luke shoved the thoughts away, forcing a smile for the sake of reassuring the boy. When he looked back down, Luke returned to his notes. That was it then; as soon as the pocket-watch was repaired, he would have to leave for the Professor's time right away. He'd draw Don Paolo's attentions away from the Layton Family here and allow them to live their lives. After that, Luke would commence his mission of protecting his mentor from harm for the duration of the Time-Binder's countdown. When the thirteenth hour struck, the future would be changed and the world would continue to have Professor Layton's puzzle-solving skills among the living. Luke smiled wistfully as he finished writing and closed the notepad. Everything would be all right in the end.

"I'm done." Hershel announced with a tired sigh, lifting a hand to his head, "My head hurts. May I have some tea and lie down for a bit?" Luke looked up at him worriedly, nodding his head in silence and watching the boy reach out to pour himself a cup and sip at it a few times. He set it down and lay back on the couch, gazing up at the ceiling. "Sir Luke, would it be all right if I asked you to stay, even after your watch was fixed?" he suddenly asked. Luke blinked again, startled by the question as he picked up his own cup. A melancholy look crossed his face, guilt creeping through him as he looked aside.

"I'm sorry, Hershel, but I can't." he murmured softly, "I would like to stay with you, but there are things I must do, and people I must help, and my presence is already proving to be dangerous here to you and your parents."

"Then come back when you're finished. If you don't have anyplace to live then you can live with us." Hershel supplied in a sleepy tone, "You can be my teacher. It'll be fun." Luke's grip on the teacup tightened and he closed his eyes, willing away the tears that threatened to form and fall.

"No, Hershel. When I leave, it will be for good. We'll meet again one day, I can promise you that, but I won't be coming back here for a very long time." he replied quietly and glanced over at the boy as he slowly began drifting to sleep, "And I won't remember you at all. I won't remember any of this. Because if I do things right... it will never have happened to me."

Hershel was fast asleep, so Luke felt safe in having said his last words. He took another sip of tea and gazed out the window at the lawn of the Layton estate. It was a calm and peaceful day, compared to the previous night. How long would that peace last, knowing Don Paolo was out there and waiting for another chance to strike?

Two days passed since the attack at the fountain, and Luke and Hershel continued their lessons together after the boy returned from school. They walked around the city or took rides on Luke's scooter, which Hershel called magic since it appeared only when his eyes closed and opened after a minute. They visited the park and the museums, carefully avoiding Harold's schedule so neither of them would get in trouble, the markets and libraries. And everywhere they went, Hershel pleaded for a puzzle, any kind of puzzle. So Luke would tell him many of the puzzles he remembered, the easier ones so Hershel wouldn't be overly frustrated with them. The boy loved them all, eagerly working on solving each one, declaring the answer with a dramatic thrust of his finger towards Luke, who looked startled at first, then laughed from then on. He made a note of it later; more of Professor Layton's quirks and idiosyncrasies were being developed before his very eyes and he was fascinated by it all.

Notes turned into small sketches as Luke sought to capture the essence of the young Hershel Layton on paper while the boy played with his newest puzzle, a set of blocks that he shifted and turned and rearranged to find the solution to a picture puzzle. The day was bright and sunny, and Hershel had begged for a trip to the park, dragging Luke to the door of the house before the young man really knew what had hit him; he'd been napping in the Sun Room after running an errand for Helena that seemed like another of her hints that she knew more than she let on. After all, she had him collect the broken pieces of that strange rifle in the yard and take them to the blacksmith to be melted down and reforged into a black rapier. He had suffered from a case of the screaming heebie-jeebies at that one; the design the blacksmith had drawn up and used on the black metal was identical to his own rapier back in his time, an eerie black thing that he had puzzled over and Professor Layton confessed to having no clue towards its origin. Simply that it belonged to his mother and she would smile that Cheshire Cat smile when asked about it.

Luke was beginning to despise time-travel.

But here and now, he could forget about it for a moment and enjoy the breezy spring day at the park, sketching away at his pad while Hershel tapped on the blocks, looking out of the corners of his eyes at something... Luke froze in place.

"Keep writing." Hershel whispered, frowning slightly, "That creepy man is here." He turned the blocks again, but without the care he took before now that his attention was focused elsewhere. Luke resumed sketching, sweat breaking out across his forehead as he tried to keep his hand steady. "What should we do, Sir Luke? He's watching you like some beady-eyed vulture!" the boy growled, "Dirty old man!"

"I don't know. Can you tell me what he looks like again? Or... here, draw him for me." Luke murmured, tearing out a piece of paper from his notepad and passing it and his pencil to Hershel. The boy picked it up and began scribbling on it, glancing back and forth surreptitiously from the paper to the stalker and back. Finally, he passed the items back and resumed playing with his puzzle. Luke picked up the paper and flipped it over to see the drawing, his jaw dropping open.

It was crude but conveyed enough to let Luke know that this was not the Don Paolo he knew. The man in the drawing had additional 'horns' of hair growing around his bald head, plenty of wrinkles on his face from what he could see of the sketch, and a scar on one cheek. No, this was not his time's Don Paolo, who changed only a little since he was last seen in Luke's time, cackling like a maniac from his whirlybird as he escaped the authorities yet again. This man was far older -'like Grandpa Layton'- which meant... Luke's vision seemed to dim and tunnel in horrible realization. This Don Paolo came from a future even further than Luke! But why? And why was he after him, following him through time?

'If he wanted to target me, why didn't he come after me in my own time? Before I traveled through the stream?' he thought in a panic, running his hand through his hair as he tried calming himself down, 'What the bloody hell is going on here? I just wanted to save Professor Layton, not become his rival's new obsession!'

"Luke!" Hershel's voice snapped suddenly and the teen jumped slightly at hearing his name, focusing on the here and now once more. The boy was looking up at him with a firm gaze, an expression Luke remembered seeing on the Professor's face just before he first dove into that battle with Anthony. Hershel wanted a fight.

"Run!" Luke suddenly whispered with wide eyes and grabbed Hershel by the hand, bolting from the table and leaving behind the unfinished puzzle. He didn't care; the puzzle was native to that time period, so there was no harm in it. But the two of them had to get out of there, fast! Hershel darted alongside him, his speed enabling him to keep up with Luke's longer strides. They dodged people and vendors, following the path until Hershel yelped and swerved to dive into a clump of bushes. Luke had little choice but to follow him; he was responsible for the boy, after all. He crashed into the bushes, collapsing into a heap and gasping for air as Hershel crawled up to him.

"Shhh!" he hissed, putting a finger up to his lips, "Stay quiet and don't move. He'll pass by us and we'll be safe." So Luke followed his advice, feeling rather foolish for depending on this young version of his mentor to keep him out of trouble. Shouldn't it be the other way around? But the sound of heavy footsteps came dangerously close to them and Luke hugged Hershel tightly, shutting his eyes and holding his breath and praying to the heavens that they be overlooked. There was heavy breathing as well, for the old Don Paolo must not be in prime condition any longer, and then his voice roared out in frustration.

"I'll get you yet, you little brat! Layton's legacy will be mine for the taking!" the old man's voice bellowed and then the footsteps began again, moving away from them. The mentor and apprentice stayed put in the safety of the bushes until it felt like an age had passed before emerging. Luke went first, reasoning that if anything happened, it was best if it happened to himself. He could withstand greater physical punishment than Hershel and Hershel was needed alive to ensure Professor Layton lived at all. Nothing happened, no one jumped him, so he called out to Hershel and they walked back to their table to collect the puzzle and leave the park. There would be no more outings for the rest of the day.

That night, Luke added the new information to his notebook. The rapier he possessed in his time was made from metal that was brought from the far future and left behind in the far past. Lady Layton definitely knew something was not quite right with him. The Don Paolo from the far future had followed him into the past for the sole purpose of kidnapping him. Layton's legacy was in danger of being stolen, so Luke had to make every effort to prevent that. Legally speaking, it was impossible to do unless Luke himself gave the order to relinquish it, as Flora had declined her portion of the Professor's estate. However, Flora also wielded the wealth of her own inheritance in St. Mystere, and the village was in isolation from the outside world due to her grief. There was no way of getting to her unless by air or water. So with Flora a greater, wealthier target, why would Don Paolo set his sights on himself, Layton's apprentice?

Luke tapped his pencil against his bottom lip as his thoughts trailed to Flora with a warm feeling, and then paused as he came to a stunning conclusion. The old Don Paolo came from further in his own future, and perhaps in that future, he was... and Flora... Luke blushed fiercely as he forced himself to consider the possibility that he and Flora would be... married... in that time. That meant that Flora's wealth would be poured into the coffers that supported the Layton estate; Luke assumed that by that point a way of preserving the villagers would be discovered and enacted, otherwise, Flora would never consent, as her inheritance was her dowry and removing it would destroy St. Mystere.

Now if Flora's dowry was given to Luke for the marriage, and Luke placed it with his own inheritance from the Professor... Luke dropped his pen and staggered back from his notepad, staring at it with horror. That must be why Don Paolo wanted him! But then, was that also why the Professor was killed? How could it be? No one had any clue that Luke and Flora would be his inheritors, far less that Luke would be the sole heir once Flora abandoned London in anguish, and it was a shock to all of them when the documents came in that bound Luke permanently to the estate. He hadn't been given a choice, and a tiny part of Luke resented the Professor for it. So why was the Professor killed? Don Paolo would have benefited from it immediately by being rid of his hated rival, but in time Luke would have stepped up to take his place and the scientist would be foiled again. And no one even dreamed that he would resort to time-travel to prevent the whole affair from even happening in the first place! So what was the connection between Don Paolo, himself and Professor Layton's murder?

Luke found himself wishing his spare hint coin would give him some insight on this.


	11. Chapter 11

While Hershel went to school for his usual studies, lessons on things that Luke had little interest in teaching, Luke himself walked the grounds of the Layton estate, puzzling over the dilemma set before him involving himself, the far future Don Paolo and Professor Layton's death. He just couldn't get it, and more than once he startled a maid as he passed by them, smacking his forehead with his palm. And that was another thing that was bothering him; the entire estate was covered in maids now! There were a few butlers here and there, and the gardeners of course, but whole flocks of maids seemed to appear whenever he stayed too long in one specific spot. Knowing Harold's disdain for him, Luke deduced that Helena had ordered them to stay close to him for his protection, which made Luke embarrassed and frustrated. He didn't need protection from women! That went against everything Professor Layton taught him about being a gentleman! Right?

But then Hershel would come home and Luke would join him in relief, suggesting they go elsewhere for relaxation. He had to be cautions about his approach, though; if he strayed too close to the fountain while walking towards him, the boy would shriek in alarm, rooted to the spot and pointing blindly until the young man snapped him out of it with a gentle shake of his shoulders and a stern lecture. What kind of gentleman was afraid of a fountain anyway? Either Luke figured out a way to get him to get over the trauma, or he was going to be stuck with the same fearful man in the future -past future-. Whatever. Time-travel's annoying. Bugger off.

"Where are we going today, Sir Luke?" Hershel asked, hugging his mentor from behind as Luke started up the scooter and headed down the street, "Not the park; that scary man from yesterday might still be there."

"I want to take another look at the Museum of Science. There may be some puzzles there you can work on if we examine a few things carefully enough." Luke replied over the sound of his scooter and other cars on the road, "My mentor said that the world was full of mysteries and puzzles, and we could find them if we just looked close enough."

So it was decided they would spend the rest of the afternoon at the museum, which also gave Luke a convenient excuse to check up on the Time-Binder. He parked the scooter just outside the building and helped Hershel climb off. The boy, upon setting feet to the ground again, carefully scanned the area, eyes darting about quickly and surely, taking stock of the people and objects around them. Luke found himself just as fascinated by this aspect of his future mentor as his other little quirks. Why hadn't he noticed more of these in the Professor when he was alive? As far as Luke could recall, Layton didn't scrutinize places and people like a thief in waiting. Such a thing just couldn't be conceived as something he'd do in Luke's mind. But there were other ways that he could search a place visually. The Professor often glanced around himself casually as he held conversations or gave lectures. It could have been to be sure he was holding people's attentions, but what if there was more to it?

Luke shook his head free of those thoughts, finding himself feeling more unsettled the more he dwelled on them. Hershel finally found things to his liking and eagerly tugged on Luke's hand, leading him up the steps to the museum's entrance.

"Let's go, Sir Luke!" he laughed cheerfully, "Let's find a puzzle!"

They didn't find a puzzle.

The two of them had peered at every display they could find and not even one picture puzzle would come to mind. Luke sat on a bench, exhausted and disappointed by the trip. Hershel sat by him, staring up at the ceiling and counting the cracks in the stone. Every now and then, he'd sit up and pull his hat off, scratching his head in a decidedly confused manner while his eyes scoured their surroundings again. Luke was beginning to grow nervous at the sight of him doing that.

"No puzzles?" Hershel finally asked him with a sigh. Luke echoed his sentiments, closing his eyes and shaking his head. That was worrying. He had seen a couple of displays that should have reminded him of a puzzle or two, but for the life of him, he couldn't bring them to mind. Was he really so out of touch with them that he'd started forgetting whole puzzles? Hershel sighed again, propping his cheeks onto his hands. "Bollocks." he grumbled and Luke's fingers instantly found his ear, tugging as the teen gave him a one-eyed glare.

"You do not swear! Do you understand me?" he hissed and waited until Hershel nodded quickly before releasing him, "I'm trying not to use such language myself, but it's very hard for me. I won't allow you to even stoop to that level. You're too good for it." He sat back on the bench, dropping his head onto one hand as he fell back into a lounging position, watching Hershel rub at his ear gingerly before lighting up.

"Ah! Miss Hawkes!" he exclaimed and jumped down to bow and whisk off his hat, leaving Luke startled and rushing to catch up, "Good afternoon, madam!" The curator laughed cheerfully behind her hand, doing a small curtsy in return for the both of them.

"Good afternoon, Hershel, Sir Luke! Enjoying your visit here today?" she asked brightly, "We've had quite a few visitors so far, so I hope they haven't been any trouble to either of you." Luke shook his head with a smirk.

"No trouble at all. We did garner a few odd looks from examining some of the displays very closely, but that was my fault." he replied and gestured to the boy beside him, "I was hoping to find a puzzle for Hershel here, but I couldn't find a single one. And I couldn't remember any that would be relevant to the museum." Olivia lifted her fingers to her bottom lip, blinking rapidly.

"Oh! You're a puzzle solver, Sir Luke? I had no idea." she remarked and smiled, giving him a wink, "Well, in that case, I believe I have a puzzle for the two of you. I heard it as a child and I remember it quite well. Would you like to give it a go?" Hershel cheered as Luke smiled more warmly and tipped his hat.

"I'd love to try it. Please go on." he replied and the curator chuckled.

"All right! Here it comes!" she declared and held up a finger as though giving a stern lecture. "Three children are playing stickball in a yard. Their names are Larry, Gary and Jerry. They play too roughly and the ball breaks a neighbor's window. The neighbor comes to confront them and this is what the children say. Larry claims Gary did it, Gary says Jerry did it, and Jerry says he did. All of the boys are lying." She winked again, folding her arms over her chest, "So, can you tell me who broke the window?"

Hershel lifted his hand to his mouth, taking on his pensive expression and Luke closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his head back slightly in thought, then smirking as he opened them again. Olivia giggled softly, holding a finger to her lips to keep him quiet as Hershel began pacing back and forth, turning the puzzle over in his own mind. He stopped suddenly and whirled around, pointing at Olivia with a wide smile.

"I've got it!" he exclaimed and Olivia bent, cupping her ear.

"Whisper your answer to me, then Luke can do the same. I'll tell you if you're right." she told him and Hershel hurried forward, whispering into her ear. Her smile widened and she stood to do the same to Luke, who smirked wider and murmured his answer as well. With that, she stepped back and laughed, clapping her hands. "You're both absolutely right! Such sharp minds you have! You could be detectives!" she exclaimed.

"Perhaps, but I'm more suited to archival work. Though, I've been known to act as an affiliate to inspectors and true detectives when called upon." Luke remarked off-handedly, shrugging slightly.

"I want to be an achey-ologist, like my father." Hershel declared proudly and grinned, "But I also want to be a puzzle master now, too! I want to solve all the puzzles in the world and make new ones too!" Olivia laughed while Luke simply smiled more genuinely, hands tucked into his pockets as he gazed down at his temporary apprentice. He was going to miss this, but it would all be for the better. He turned to Olivia then, his smile turning a bit sadder.

"Miss Hawkes, how go the repairs of the watch? I know it isn't the end of the week yet, but..." he trailed off and Olivia sighed, tapping her cheek wistfully.

"Grandfather is insisting he should remove the gear for the thirteenth hour, but I tell him that such a thing is improper without your permission. And I suspect you won't be giving us that anytime soon, are you?" she asked and Luke shook his head, "I thought not. May I ask why you insist on it? It is a most wicked hour, full of bad luck. It's an ill omen, sir."

"Even so, leave it there. For me, when that hour tolls, the sound will be the sweetest song." he replied softly and tipped his hat again, "We should be going. Dinner will be soon and I need to get Hershel home before dark." He collected the boy, who had run off to share the puzzle with several other children standing with their parents. Both of them said their goodbyes and left the museum as Olivia remained standing in the room, a worried look on her face.

Dinner was quiet, save for the few instances where Helena and Hershel would trade puzzles over their meals, inviting Luke to join in their fun. He'd solve several with them in good jest, get stuck on one, then would spend a few minutes brooding over it, annoyed that he'd been foiled by something that sounded like a math problem when it wasn't. But it would pass and they would resume the exchange, dampened now and then by Harold clearing his throat for his son to quiet down some and watching Luke carefully. The young man wasn't fond of the staring, but resolved to bear with it for the time being. He wouldn't be under it for much longer anyway.

As the household began to wind down, Luke headed outside, making sure Hershel saw him head for the fountain. As he suspected, the boy began screaming again and he spun around to face him, a stern expression on his face.

"Hershel Layton, you will stop that at once! Screaming isn't going to solve this!" he shouted at the boy, "How can you become a good archaeologist and puzzle master if you let your fears control you like this? Face them, boy, and don't back down!" With that, he ran for the fountain and leaped up to land on the surface of the marble that formed the lowest basin. Balanced there, he looked back at the small figure hurrying towards him, frowning when he halted several feet away, shaking violently and staring up at him. "Do you want to solve the puzzles of the world? Solve the puzzle of your fears! Why are you so afraid of this place?" Luke declared, gesturing at the fountain he stood on, "You told me this was your favorite place! You loved it here! Why would you throw away all your happy memories of this fountain over one foolish incident that was of my own fault? You didn't force me into the water; that man did, and it wouldn't have happened if I had thought to move away from it!"

"But you almost drowned, Sir Luke!" Hershel wailed, stepping back.

"And what if I did drown? Would staying away from this fountain bring me back?" Luke snapped and jumped down to stand before the little boy, arms folded over his chest, "Don't throw away your happiness because of me. With or without me, you deserve to have all the happy moments you can get, and this fountain gave you so many happy thoughts and memories." He held a hand out towards the fountain as though to guide Hershel back to it. The boy looked up at him, then stared at the fountain before shaking his head, eyes still wide with fright.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry I can't. Not now." he whimpered, stepping back again, then another and another and before Luke knew it, he had fled from them back to the house, crying in fear. Luke watched him go and sighed harshly, glaring at the fountain. One way or another, he was going to cure his little apprentice of that fear. It wasn't fair for the Professor to harbor that bit of darkness because of his carelessness.

He returned to his notes later that night, recording the events of the day and what he had learned, when Luke noticed something odd about his notepad. The edges of the pages seemed cleaner than he last recalled, considering his excessive use of pen and pencil to scribble down anything he deemed important, so on a whim he flipped it to the first few pages, stopping with a startled gasp. The first five pages of his notepad were empty, blank, as if he'd never touched a writing implement to the paper. In suspicion, Luke picked up a pencil and carefully rubbed the lead across each blank page, but nothing emerged from the trick. The paper acted as though nothing had ever been written on it. He closed it with a frown, slipping it back into the pocket of his coat where it hung nearby and resumed puzzling over the unknown connection between himself, Don Paolo and the Professor's death.

Luke grabbed his satchel, pulling free several of the documents that he had stored there and looking over them carefully for any additional clues. Legal forms, certificates, notes of authority, letters of recommendation from the orphanage... wait. The orphanage had received two letters concerning his placement when he was of age for apprenticeship. One had been from the Professor, expressing his interest in him for his intellectual potential. The other had a signature too messy to make out, but suggested that he be placed as an intern for quantum field theory, a rather bold assumption of his intelligence. The orphanage had been delighted by both offers, but went with Professor Layton due to his fame, and the headmistress had a fondness for him that swayed her decision instantly. No one was sure what happened to the other interested party after the Professor picked Luke up. At Luke's insistence, the orphanage released the two letters to him for 'archival research purposes' and he visited the address listed on the second letter. A vacant lot stood there and Luke shrugged it off as a cruel prank that fell through.

What if that second letter had been from Don Paolo? The man was a scientist, albeit a rather bizarre and evil one, and quantum field theory was technically under a scientific category. In fact, it was what helped to form the theories that resulted in the development of the Time-Binder and the Temporal Slipstream Device, the machine that helped Luke travel through time. He rubbed his head, thinking hard. So, if Don Paolo had sent that letter, why would he be interested in having Luke study time-travel theory? Obviously, to create a way to go back in time and... do what? Wait, what if he wanted to go forward in time? To the future? Luke groaned softly, holding his head in his hands as he tried to make logic work with him. Start over. Assume Don Paolo wanted him first as his own apprentice. What would happen?

Luke would study time-travel theory, eventually building the Time-Binder and Temporal Slipstream (not himself but as head of a team, of course), and all of time would be free for Don Paolo to traverse. Don Paolo hated the Professor, so he would possibly use the invention to do away with him before he became the Professor. But in doing so, many events would be missed; St. Mystere, the Pandora's Box, Luke's... engagement... to Flora... and the Professor...

"Bloody hell." Luke cursed painfully, rubbing his head as he tried to straighten his thoughts, flushing at the thought of Flora again. Okay, so those would be missed and opportunities would be lost. Change tracks. The Professor got him first. Events continued as normal. The Professor is found murdered one day and the family falls apart. Luke becomes sole heir after Flora leaves, and goes on to help develop the Binder and Slipstream for his mission. It is a success, mostly. Progress forward from there, ignoring what he personally is doing. What happens?

Time travel becomes more stable but not widely used, of course. Don Paolo would gain access to it somehow and goes to this exact time where Luke accidentally landed... that doesn't seem right. What would the point be in that? And how would Don Paolo know exactly what time he was in when the jump was an accident?

Unless it wasn't an accident. Luke swore again, stuffing the papers back into his satchel. This was getting complicated, and now he was suspicious of the head of R & D back in his own time. Was it sabotage? Had he been sold out? What the hell was going on?

"Deal with it in the morning." Luke growled to himself, "And when all this is done, that imbecile won't be my problem anymore!"


	12. Chapter 12

No."

The answer came bluntly and tonelessly. Hershel tilted his head and set his arms akimbo, a frustrated look on his face as he stayed right where he was on Luke's bed.

"And why not?" he demanded childishly, "It's holiday today! No school! I want to go visit Olivia for another puzzle and you just want to bum around in bed all day! A gentleman rises early to greet the day right! That's what you said, remember?" Luke groaned, head stuffed under a pillow and one arm splayed on top to keep it there.

"Well, today, I'm not a gentleman. Today, I'm Luke and Luke says, stay in the fecking bed until this headache goes away." the teen growled, "Now bugger off and let me sleep." Hershel scowled and grabbed onto the blankets, tearing them away from him as fast as his hands could move, keeping them out of reach of Luke's wildly groping grasp. "What the-? Fine! Take them! I can sleep without linens!" And Luke curled up tighter, gripping his pillow to keep it safe. Hershel crawled closer to him and positioned himself before the teen's back, frowning in consideration before deciding that Luke could take the lumps.

"Get up!" he began shouting, kicking his feet into Luke's back repeatedly, "Get up! Get up! Get up!"

"Ow, ow, ow! What the hell?" Luke shot upright to escape the blows and twisted around in an effort to grab the boy, who rolled aside and laughed, "Get back here, you brat! What the devil's gotten into you?" The teen half-crawled, half-wriggled after him, one eye twitching in irritation as he made a grab for the boy's ankle, only to have it jerked out of reach, Hershel winking and sticking out his tongue over his shoulder tauntingly. "Rrgh! When I get my hands on you, you're going to get it but good, you hear me?" Luke growled, lunging for him. Hershel rolled aside again, dropping off the bed with a laugh and running around it to the other side, snatching up the blue newsboy's cap and plopping it onto his own head.

"Then come and get me!" he declared, dodging another lunge that had Luke crash halfway onto the floor, legs tangled in the sheets that remained on the bed. He took the opportunity to tug on his hair, dodged another grab attempt and raced out of the room in laughter. The teen steamed, red-faced, then yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Hershel Layton, I won't let you forget this day!"

Helena smiled over her cup of tea as Harold lifted his head with a huff. The sounds of shouting and footsteps thumping furiously on the second floor of the manor filled the air, and the maids and servants bustled about cheerfully, laughing each time they heard a heavy thump and Hershel's mad giggling that signaled another miss by Luke. Doors slammed open and closed as the chase moved back and forth between various rooms, then the thudding grew louder as Hershel took the rampage downstairs, scurrying quickly to stay ahead of his mentor's agile leaps down several steps, then tearing into the kitchen and causing a ruckus in there. Luke followed blindly after, a wide smile on his face even as he yelled all sorts of nonsensical threats.

The cooks lifted their plates and dishes, spinning around as the two of them raced through and around the center island before going back out. The head chef chased after them up to the end of the kitchen, waving a spoon and promising retribution during their lunch. Maids scattered like frightened hens, giggling and squealing happily as mentor and apprentice raced down a hall and into another room, chasing one another a few times in there, then darting back out to enter another and do it again.

"I don't think this is part of gentlemanly studies. Not from what I can recall of my own tutor." Harold finally grumped, standing up to head off for the museum. Helena only sipped at her tea before replying.

"They're playing and enjoying themselves. As much as Sir Luke touts himself to be an adult and a gentleman, he is still a boy at heart." she reminded and gazed into her tea, eyes shimmering with that eerie mystique Harold loved and feared, "A boy who has been hurt very deeply and is slowly beginning to heal."

Harold huffed and strode purposefully towards the door of the parlor, opening it and then standing by in waiting. Predictably, Hershel raced inside with a shriek of laughter, only to find himself snatched up by the collars of his jacket and shirt and dangling several feet off the floor. Luke raced in after him and found himself similarly snagged, his eyes wide with shock that such a thing could happen to him. Harold eyed them both with a mildly venomous glare.

"Are you quite finished?" he asked scathingly and both boys nodded slowly, staring at him fearfully, "Very good." He set Hershel down and he scampered for the sofa, hiding behind it. Releasing Luke sent the older boy running to join his apprentice in the search for safety. "I expect you two to be on your best behavior tonight." Harold added firmly, "The Historical Museum is holding a banquet in honor of a most generous benefactor who has made a sizable donation. We've been invited as required and I do not wish to have him and my colleagues think my son and his teacher act as though they were recently discovered ape-men!"

"Sorry, Father." Hershel murmured with a wince, "We were just having a spot of fun."

"My sincerest apologies, Sir Layton. I was caught up in the moment." Luke added, placing a hand on his apprentice's head, "I assure you that we will be perfect gentlemen by the time the banquet takes place." Harold gave him a steady look.

"See to it that such a miracle happens. This evening must go smoothly." he stressed and picked up his own top hat, placing it firmly on his head before leaving. As soon as he was gone, Luke snatched the cap from Hershel's head and smacked him lightly with it before placing it back on his own head.

"That was for running off with my favorite cap, pipsqueak." he remarked with a smirk, "You heard your father; let's get ready for tonight!" Hershel rubbed at his head and thrust a fist into the air with a cheer.

"Yes! Let's show him I can be a good gentleman!" he agreed and Helena laughed merrily as they rushed out of the room to prepare.

The day was a bustle of activity as Luke took Hershel back to the tailor's shop to mend his coat and hat from the activities of the past few days, what with dodging Don Paolo and racing through the manor. While there, he also had his own coat mended, opting to purchase replacement clothing for the rest of his wardrobe and plotting to toss his old clothes into the furnace. While they waited for the repairs, Luke collected several hats from the tailor's wares and set them before Hershel, explaining another puzzle to him. Various optical illusions later, the tailor returned their clothing in excellent condition, chuckling at the sight of them modeling top hats in front of the mirror.

After that was a trip to a shoe shine boy nearby, who offered a puzzle of his own upon hearing the two chatter about illusions and trick words.

"Big Ben there's a national landmark, right? You can make it disappear into thin air, you can!" the boy exclaimed brightly as he worked on Hershel's shoes, "But, you can only use two pennies to do it! So, little sir, how do you make Big Ben vanish with just two little pennies?" Hershel sat back and puzzled it over while Luke tipped his hat down over his eyes with a slight frown.

"I know the answer to this, but I also know I've heard this puzzle before. I just can't for the life of me remember where." he mumbled, "It wasn't from the Professor, that's for certain."

It took Hershel another minute to play with the logic in his head but he yelped at last and pointed in triumph.

"Ah! I get it! You put the pennies over your eyes! That will make everything disappear, including the Clock Tower!" he exclaimed and the shoe shiner laughed in response.

"Aye! That's it!" he declared and gestured to the shoes, "And look at that; all polished and nice in the time it took you to solve it!" Luke paid the boy as Hershel admired the shoes beside him, slipping in an additional silver coin for a tip. "Ah! Thank you kindly, gents! Cheers!" the boy exclaimed brightly, waving as he gathered up his kit and hurried on his way, eager to locate his next client from the lunch crowd.

The next stop for both mentor and apprentice was a local barber shop, as Hershel had made a convenient mess of his hair racing about with Luke's cap and didn't bother brushing when putting his own hat on. Hershel also pointed out, rather smugly since Luke seemed to be on the verge of abandoning him there, that he looked a bit fuzzy of face. The young man blinked, startled, before touching fingertips to his chin and upper lip. Sure enough, there was an odd 'fluffiness' that he hadn't noticed before.

"Good time to get a shave and a trim. Two bits for you!" the second barber in the shop remarked as the first worked on getting Hershel ready for his haircut. Sighing in resignation, Luke put down the money for a second client and seated himself down.

A glance between the two barbers and Luke found himself chuckling at the sight of one with scruffy hair and the other with a badly trimmed mustache. "Pardon, but would the scruffy gent work on the boy and the other work on me? My hair is fine as it is, I just need the shave." he remarked and the two men looked at each other before bursting into laughter at being found out. They swapped places and set to work; one with comb and scissors, the other with foam and blade. Luke flinched suddenly at the sight of the straight razor coming towards him and reared back slightly. "Ah! Warn me first!" Luke exclaimed as Hershel glanced over at him worriedly, "I don't like having blades pointed at my face!"

"Then you'll be having a difficult time shaving yourself later." his barber remarked dryly, "You want this done or not?" Luke sighed, gesturing for him to carry on as Hershel rolled his eyes and watched snips of his hair fall in fascination.

"All done! Ready to break a few hearts, gents?" the barber finally remarked, cleaning the last of the foam from Luke's face and letting him out of the chair, handing him a hot towel to press to his face for soothing his skin after the shave. The young man didn't answer right away, gaping as Hershel carefully set his hat back on his head and smiled up at him. That style... the Professor wore his hair in that same style every day. Hair slicked back and under control, save for a single rebellious lock that curled over his left temple that he always had to tuck into his hat to keep it out of his way; Luke had always thought it was dashing and had tried to emulate it himself one day, only to find it was an abysmal failure on his own head. Hence, he stuck with his own usual style.

Finally, Luke just smiled warmly and nodded.

"Believe me; many a heart will fall for that face. I can just about guarantee it." he chuckled and pressed his face into the towel, the perfect place to hide fresh tears.


	13. Chapter 13

The Historical Museum had been cleared of exhibits for the occasion, and filling its main chamber were dozens of round tables and one series of rectangular tables set end to end to divide the room. It was packed with food of all kinds, and the delectable scents reminded Luke of evenings with Flora and the Professor, provided Luke was the one who had cooked, of course. A stage was set up at the far end of the hall, to introduce and thank the benefactor most probably.

Harold turned in his invitations for 'Layton Family and Guest', then led them towards the table reserved for them near the stage. They were all in their best outfits for the occasion; Harold dressed as properly as always, brown silk hat snug on his head, Helena in a stunning gown of silk and fur, eyes sparkling over the feathered fan she held before herself, Hershel in a miniature copy of his future wardrobe, down to his top hat and cloak. Luke remained in his usual blue coat and cap, vest, dress shirt and pants pressed for the event, and his satchel by his side as always. Harold had wanted him to leave it behind, but Luke put up a fight and Helena backed him surprisingly fast, so there it was and there it would stay.

"So who exactly is it that donated to the museum?" Luke asked the current Professor Layton, pencil and notepad at the ready, "I'd like to add this to the records my mentor collected." Harold pushed his glasses up onto his nose, sighing at the question.

"A gentleman who gave his name as Odan Polo. Strange fellow." he replied as Luke took note of the name, "Didn't seem that interested in the displays but signed over a tidy sum that should keep our dig sites open another year or so." Hershel made a face at that, quickly wiping it from sight before anyone else could see. "As a courtesy and out of gratitude, the museum decided to host this banquet in his honor." Luke lifted an eyebrow in suspicion, studying the name in his notepad.

"When did he make his donation, if I may ask?" he pressed and Harold spread his hands in a polite shrug.

"Yesterday morning. The entire transaction was done in currency. Not a single bank note or cheque to be found." he replied and looked around, spotting another gentleman waving at him, "Ah, excuse me. The Director wishes to speak with me." With that, he stood and left the table. Hershel scowled once he was gone, sitting back in his chair with a huff.

"Oh, wonderful. That means Father will be sent away to dig up more things and I'll be all alone again." he grumbled, then brightened quickly and smiled up at Luke, "But you'll be staying with us, Sir Luke, so that won't matter at all! I can still learn to solve puzzles from you and then when I grow up, I'll become Father's apprentice and...!" Luke sighed and shook his head firmly, and Hershel's smile faded away. "Why not, Sir Luke?" he pleaded, "I want you to stay with us at our manor! I learn so much from you!"

"Hershel, I've told you already; there's another place I must go to and another person who needs me." Luke replied tiredly, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, "As soon as I pick up my pocket-watch, I'll be leaving this place. You won't see me for a very long time, but that's how it is. You can't have what you want all the time. A gentleman should know when no means no." Hershel glared at him and threw himself back in his chair with a huff. Luke watched him sadly for a moment, then snapped to alertness when the lights were dimmed in the hall, letting the flickering of dozens of candles provide an elegant atmosphere. A hush fell over the audience as a small, but complete symphonic band near the stage began to play and light engulfed the stage to draw everyone's attention towards it. The Director stood at the podium and began to speak, a courtesy oration prepared to introduce the museum's latest benefactor.

A waiter walked up to Helena out of the darkness and whispered softly into her ear. She listened with an attentive look on her face even as she kept her gaze on the stage, then nodded and stood up. Motioning towards Hershel and Luke, she followed the waiter towards the lit wooden stage, apparently being led to join Harold on the stage. Luke reached out and took hold of Hershel's hand so he wouldn't get lost in the crowd, and frowned deeply at what he'd learned. Any puzzle solver worth his salt could see through the jumble of letters Don Paolo made of his own name. What was he hoping to gain by donating money to the Historical Museum? He blinked as the waiter guided them onto the stage and stood them by Harold just as the Director finished his speech and introduced 'Odan Polo', who emerged from the shadows to take his place at the podium, giving Luke his first good look at him.

He was definitely much older than the Don Paolo he knew in his own time, with three additional 'spikes' of hair styled on his head, all in gray. He hadn't aged very well and a scar roughly two inches long on his cheek made him look menacing. It appeared to have been made by a sharp edge, being thin and clean. Don Paolo still dressed in his usual flamboyant manner, and still smelled of smoke and acrid chemicals, which those around him tried very hard to bear for the sake of politeness. Helena narrowed her eyes and fluttered her fan, expressing her distaste in that gesture. Hershel shrank back behind Luke, trembling as he gripped his mentor's hand more tightly.

"It's the creepy man, Sir Luke! The one who always watched you!" he whimpered, "What's he doing here?"

"Cornering me, I suppose." Luke whispered back, glaring as 'Odan' made his own speech to the crowd, "This seemed to be the best way of getting me to go to him without arousing anyone's suspicions. Age has made him slightly more clever in his plots." Helena glanced aside at him, but said nothing, fluttering continuously to keep the stench of smoke from getting near her.

Once the speeches were done and the banquet truly began, 'Odan' made his way almost casually to Harold and his family, greeting them with a smarmy smile as he held a champagne glass up in a toast.

"So you are the current Professor Layton? An honor to meet the man behind the famed name." he purred and Harold pushed his glasses up higher in veiled annoyance.

"The honor is yours alone, good sir. I wouldn't dare take it from you." he replied in a polite barb. 'Odan' chuckled and turned his gaze to Helena with a smirk.

"And a fine lady you have on your arm tonight. Madam, I believe your beauty may have charmed me." the scientist purred and Helena closed her fan with a snap, smirking back just as sharply.

"Flattery is little more than a few selected words to soothe the ears of women and coax the sense out of their heads. I prefer the allure of a good puzzle." she returned, eyes glittering as 'Odan' flinched the slightest at the mention of a puzzle.

"Puzzles. I detest the playthings of idle hands and minds." the scientist grumbled and Helena laughed icily, tilting her head in defiance.

"Then our families will never see eye to eye." she challenged, "For puzzles are what make this world a mysterious and beautiful place." 'Odan' only huffed before turning to Luke, breaking into a huge grin that only grew far wider when he spotted Hershel clinging to the teen's arm and scowling up at him.

"And you must be Harold's son! A pleasure to meet you!" Don Paolo crooned and his gaze flicked up at Luke, adding under his breath, "Though he seems a good deal shorter than I last remember, don't you think, my boy? Ah, little people must fall for greatness to truly rise supreme." Luke jerked his head back, curling a lip in disgust.

"Don't call me that. I don't know what your game is in this time, Don Paolo, but rest assured I will not let you harm Hershel!" he hissed and the scientist stepped back, looking over at Harold.

"Am I correct in assuming you have two sons? I was under the impression you only had one." he asked of the other man instead. Harold cleared his throat delicately, now looking wary himself.

"The little one is my son, Hershel Layton. The elder is his teacher, Sir Luke, though he gave no family name." he corrected and Don Paolo grinned again, looking over at the blue-clad young man, who stiffened and glared back. "He is teaching my son the duties of a gentleman when I am indisposed, and on occasion, how to solve puzzles." Harold went on, adjusting his glasses again, "My wife hired him based on those skills."

"Would you mind terribly if I stole a moment of his time for a private chat? Such an intelligent young man may hold promise with my company, if he is ever released from your employment, of course." the scientist requested genially, ignoring Luke's barely noticeable growl of displeasure. Harold and Helena glanced at one another in silent debate before the woman turned her gaze to Luke. The teen caught her eyes, studied the silent message she was giving, 'You may refuse', then slowly shook his head. If he was to uncover Don Paolo's plot, he would have to risk standing alone against him.

"I'm interested in hearing what you have to say." Luke replied coldly and released Hershel's hand, pushing him towards his mother despite his protesting, "Stay with your parents, Hershel. I'll be right back."

"Sir Luke?" Helena questioned worriedly, picking up the squirming boy and holding him close, "Are you sure this will be all right?" Luke nodded and followed the scientist off the stage. Hershel watched them leave, then burst into tears, burying his face into his mother's neck.

"I don't like the cut of his cloth." Harold whispered under his breath, standing by his wife to hold the conversation, "Sir Luke looked to have recognized him and do you recall what he said of his attacker?" Helena nodded, eyes narrowing dangerously.

"The smell of smoke and something acrid, a scent he remembered from his childhood. That man may have spent much time and money in tracking down our live-in teacher, but for what reason?" she murmured and gazed down at the sobbing boy, "And Hershel is positively terrified of the idea of leaving Luke alone with him. I do believe we've found our attempted kidnapper." Harold nodded and gently took his wife by the elbow.

"Then I say we follow them and give an ear to what they discuss." he added, guiding his family down from the stage and towards the empty rooms near the back, "And if need be... offer our support." He summoned a nearby waiter and murmured a command to him that had the young man nod quickly and run off. Hershel turned his head, watching with wide eyes as the three of them moved swiftly and quietly after his mentor.

"What the devil were you trying to pull?" Luke snapped at Don Paolo once they were in a secluded room, "You practically told them we were both from other timelines! And don't think I don't know what you're up to; you've already murdered the Professor! Why bother killing him as a child?" Don Paolo laughed loudly, stroking the ends of his mustache as he did.

"For a brat that helped create the ability to travel through time, you know very little of the intricacies of meddling with events." the scientist purred, "I don't want Layton dead in this time, not at all. It would unravel my beautiful plans to destroy that wretch's name and prove my superiority to the world, thus enabling me to gain all the treasures he ever sought!" Luke stared at him, eyebrow lifted in disbelief. Don Paolo huffed, throwing a hand up in exasperation. "Ah, what would a mere ex-apprentice know of the tapestry of time anyway?" he grumbled, then resumed smiling, "It's no surprise, however, that you refused to give your full name to that little family back there. However did you manage to ingrain yourself into their confidence, knowing you would someday be apprenticed by that little ankle-biter back there?"

"Don't call him that!" Luke shouted back angrily, shaking a fist at the old man, "And my name has nothing to do with this! Leave them out of it and tell me why you keep attacking me! Why are you here from your own time?" Don Paolo shrugged, walking in a wide circle around the young man, a calculating look on his face as he stroked at his chin.

"Hmm. Why indeed? Let me ask this of you instead." the scientist mused aloud, "Why are you here? My future is assured; can you say the same of yours?" Luke opened his mouth to retaliate, then paused, suspicious. "Curious by what I mean?" Don Paolo purred, "Then check that wretched little book you carry around on your person at all times. I've see you use it when gathering notes to foil my schemes." Luke whipped out the notepad at its mention, flipping it open again and searching its pages. Another handful of notes had vanished already, leaving blank paper behind. Don Paolo laughed, gesturing in triumph as Luke simply stared at the empty pages. "Now do you understand? Now do you see?" he declared with another round of laughter, walking up to the young man with a swagger, "Time is shifting to create the future I desire! A future where I am recognized for my genius and Layton is nothing more than a vulgarity." Luke shot him a vicious glare, stuffing the book back into his pocket.

"So you're changing the events of that day too? How? By killing me and Flora along with the Professor? A triple murder?" he snapped. Don Paolo tapped the end of his nose with a finger in a twisted form of affection, grinning broadly at him, and the young man jumped back, whipping the dagger out of hiding and holding it firmly in his grip. "Never try that again, lest you wish to count less next time you go do your shopping." he threatened shakily.

"Trying to match my scar, are you now? I've seen this stance before and I'll warn you that it failed you in the end, allowing me to traverse time to the here and now. Dear boy, I know all about your history, being from the future that you desire. Like you, I am protected from time's alterations until the timeline is locked by the destruction of your little watch." Don Paolo crooned, holding out a hand invitingly towards Layton's ex-apprentice, "And while you remain here, petering away your time with the infant Layton thanks to my efforts, my past self has already dealt with him in his future and begun the steps to acquiring Layton's legacy. All I have to do to complete the loop and end the paradox is to take you back to your own time and destroy the watch." With that, he lunged for Luke, the teen leaping back again and slashing at the air with the dagger to hold him at bay. The scientist backed away with a curse, his eyes falling on a nearby collection of antique canes in the green room. Snatching one up from its place among its peers, Don Paolo began advancing steadily as he kept his gaze moving between the teen and the dagger.

"So that's how you knew about me. You're from the future where I succeeded in foiling your plans! And yet here you are, trying to thwart a success that has yet to happen." Luke growled, flicking the blade before himself in a makeshift attempt to shield himself and defend against any sudden movements, "So what does that have to do with taking me back to my own time period? What would you possibly gain? I'll just make another Binder and jump through time, over and over until I have won!" Don Paolo kept his grin in place, tightening his grip on the cane.

"But therein lies the paradox's end. When I take you back under the conditions I have set, you'll never want to jump through time at all!" he crowed, "In fact, the Binder and Slipstream will probably have never existed!" The door to the green room suddenly banged at that moment and Luke made the mistake of moving against the source of the sound, leaving himself open to the scientist's strike. A sweep of the cane sent Luke's dagger flying while the door banged again, this time bursting open under the blows of Harold's kicking. Hershel had only to glance into the room as the Layton family hurried in before bursting into screaming wails.

"That's the bad man!" he shrieked wildly, pointing at Don Paolo cornering Luke on the other side of the room.

"Fiend! Step away from that boy at once!" Harold declared, pointing a rapier in his direction, the very thing he had sent the waiter to retrieve for him from his own office. The scientist laughed, waving at them as if they were little more than gnats buzzing at his ear. Helena set Hershel down and sent him running for aid while she took up an antique cane herself, standing by her husband with a fierce glare.

"Hateful little man, do as we say this instant!" she yelled, "I'll not allow you to bring harm to my son's mentor and friend!" Both parents lifted their weapons challengingly and Don Paolo laughed again, standing aside and bowing towards them.

"Ah, but will you allow him to harm your family and destroy your name for all time?" he asked in return, then crashed through the window behind him, vanishing into the night with wild, maniacal laughter. Luke stood frozen by the wall, mind racing through all that he'd learned from the scientist. What exactly had happened in this time's future, his own past, that altered the events leading him to create the Time-Binder and Slipstream Device? What did this mean for his own mission? Harold began inspecting the room for damages as Helena walked up to him, talking softly, soothingly, while stroking his hair back from his face and checking for injuries. Numbed by the events, he let her go on, distantly watching Hershel run back into the room with a group of other men following after.

"Professor Layton! What is the meaning of this?" the Director declared gruffly, "Your son burst onto the stage screaming bloody murder about an attack in our museum!" Harold finished his inspection, raising an eyebrow at the silver dagger lying on the floor. He picked it up with a handkerchief and tucked it into his coat before turning to the crowd of men.

"There was indeed an attack here, Director Kensley. Odan Polo attempted to subdue and kidnap my son's mentor; he fled through that window when my wife and I confronted him." he explained and gestured towards Luke, who spotted Harold put away the dagger and just sagged against Helena, dropping to a kneeling position on the floor as she knelt by him, continuing her soft crooning, "He's currently in shock, as you can see. Clearly, this Mr. Polo had used his donation as a ruse to lure Sir Luke out of the safety of our home and attempt another kidnapping, as this had happened numerous times before." The Director's eyes bulged in horror.

"By jove! Should we call for a constable?" he blurted and Helena shook her head quickly.

"Certainly not, Director. That man may have accomplices lying in wait for news of Sir Luke. If his name is recorded or documented anywhere, one of them may find it and poor Luke will never have peace." she told him sternly, "For now, we will hide the events that transpired this night. Surely the donation will cover for repairs of the window and door. And Luke will press no charges against the museum for the reasons I have stated." She smiled gently as Hershel made his way to her quickly and hugged Luke's arm, obviously grateful that the teen was still there. Harold joined them, pulling Luke's free arm over his shoulders and hefting him to his feet, bending enough to keep him steady as the young man stood a good two or three inches shorter than himself.

"We'll be retiring for the rest of the evening, if you don't mind." he told the Director, "If one of you gentlemen would be so kind as to guide us to a rear exit?" One of the curators lifted a hand in volunteer and led the family away.


	14. Chapter 14

Helena and Harold sat side by side in the parlor late that night. Hershel had already been put to bed, falling into a restless sleep after the excitement and terror drained away his adrenaline and left him exhausted. Luke sat across from the Laytons on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and sipping at a cup of tea, still trembling from the events that took place in the Historical Museum. He was tired and pale, but wouldn't be going to bed anytime soon; from the way the Laytons were watching him, he figured they had questions. Difficult questions.

"What happened, Luke?" Helena began softly, "What happened in that room?" Luke winced, gripping the cup more securely as he shifted in place.

"We had an argument, that's all. I didn't agree with what he was telling me, so I told him to bugger off. He attacked me in return." he murmured a mix of truth and lie, "I tried to defend myself, and then you two appeared. You know the rest." Harold shook his head and pulled the cloth-covered dagger from his coat, placing it on the table between them.

"This dagger was found in the room. It is the exact same as one my wife possesses. She assures me that this dagger is yours; can you explain how you came by a perfect duplicate of a unique dagger that was requested to be one of a kind?" he asked firmly. Luke shook his head. "Your hand is badly bruised; I suspect Odan struck you to relieve you of the dagger." Harold added, gesturing towards the bandages that wrapped around Luke's left hand, done in a way that left his fingers and thumb free for movement, "This argument escalated to violence very rapidly. Why?"

"He was threatening the Layton Family. I wanted to defend your name. It's... very precious to me." Luke whispered, running a fingertip over the edge of the teacup. The two adults glanced at each other, one in confusion, the other with a faintly calculating look.

"You've only been with us for just under a week. How did we come to be so treasured to you?" Helena questioned. Luke tightened his mouth, gazing into the tea and shaking his head. "We heard part of your conversation with Odan." Helena tried her trump card, watching Luke closely. The teen's eyes widened considerably, mouth opening in shock as his face paled further. "Care to explain it for us?"

"It's not what you think!" Luke blurted out suddenly, staring between the two wildly, "None of it is! Don't believe a word that was said!" He put a hand to his mouth, stunned by his own response. Helena's eyes flickered and she looked to her husband, nodding ever so slightly. They had indeed heard part of what was said, but only Odan's last words. His booming voice was what let them know which door to break down.

"Luke, it sounded like he was threatening you, not us." Harold pointed out carefully and steepled his fingers together, leaning forward to focus on the teen's expression, "Would that have anything to do with what he was talking about? A Binder and Slipstream?" Luke immediately reacted, dropping the teacup as he dragged the blanket more tightly around himself, the same wild expression returning to his face.

"No! No! You couldn't have heard that! Don't ask me about them! Forget you heard those words at all, please! I beg of you!" he cried as the Laytons stood in shock at his reaction, rushing to his side to calm him down.

"Sir Luke, get a hold of yourself!" Helena urged, grabbing his shoulders and trying to hold him still, "We only want to know so we can help you!" Luke stared up at her for a long moment before burying his face in his hands, sobbing bitterly. Harold sighed heavily and looked at his wife.

"I think it's best for Luke's nerves if we dropped the matter for now. He needs rest to clear his mind and then we can discuss this more civilly in the morning." he murmured and Helena nodded, both of them helping Luke to his feet and guiding him to his room. "Maria, tend to the parlor. There's been a spill." the professor told a passing maid, who bowed and rushed off. The night had been hectic; perhaps the daylight would bring better luck.

Luke ate breakfast in somber silence with the family, glancing over at Harold and Helena now and then. He held himself as if he'd put up heavy defenses during the night, slipping into a cold aloofness that even extended to Hershel. The boy had tugged at his coat and sleeves, trying to get a response from him, bombarding him with questions and pleas for attention as Luke went on shutting him out and packing what few things he had into his satchel. Once he was dressed for travel again, he walked out of the room and headed for Sun Room, where Helena and Harold stood waiting for him.

"Thank you both for allowing me to stay until my watch was repaired. The work should be done by now, so I'm on my way to collect it and continue my journey." the young man told them quietly, "I would very much appreciate it if you were to go on with your lives as if I'd never been here, and make no mentions of what you heard last night. I'll miss you all dearly, but I have a mission of utmost importance that can not be delayed any longer."

"For what it's worth, Sir Luke, you will always have a place here with us. While we pray for your success in your mission, should anything go wrong, you can always return here." Harold replied gruffly, "Though I hope with far less tromping through the house like a herd of wild beasts." Luke managed a smirk at that and tipped his hat, then finally sighed harshly at the hundredth tug to his sleeve.

"Hershel, for the last time, stop that. I am leaving now; I've told you this twice before." he growled at the boy, "Go to your parents and leave me be!"

"But I don't want you to go! Please, please! Stay here with us!" Hershel cried, clutching at his arm. Helena walked up to him and pulled Hershel away, holding him in her arms as he squirmed and wailed.

"Will you ever return to London, Luke?" she asked softly. The young man bit his lip, thinking it over.

"I will, but not for a rather long time." he answered at last, "I should get going to the Museum of Science. From there, I'll be leaving London." He bowed to the family one last time. "Goodbye and thank you again for everything. I'll remember your kindness for as long as I live." With that, Luke left the room and, thus, the Layton estate. Helena finally set Hershel down and the boy raced for his room upstairs, sobbing as he slammed the door shut.

"Have you decided on whether or not you'll be solving this puzzle, my dear?" Harold asked of his wife as they gazed overhead at where Hershel would be in his room. Helena put her fingers to her chin in consideration, smiled enigmatically, and shook her head.

"I leave it in the care of our son. He seems most suited to rise to the occasion, don't you think?" she purred and returned to the couch to sip her tea. Harold huffed before finally joining her.

Olivia and Barnsworth Hawkes stood at the front desk of the museum, waiting nervously as Luke opened the door and spotted them. He gave them a questioning look and the grandfather held out the golden pocket-watch. Olivia still looked flustered as Luke moved towards them, reaching into his satchel to pull out a bundle wrapped in plain brown paper.

"Here. As promised, I'm donating this to your museum as thanks for the repairs." he remarked solemnly, handing the package to Barnsworth in exchange for the Time-Binder, "And the blueprints?"

"It's the oddest thing, Sir Luke. Almost as soon as Grandfather replaced the final gear and closed up the watch, the blueprints vanished into thin air!" Olivia exclaimed fearfully, "All that's left is this blank piece of parchment!" Luke blinked, surprised, then quickly dug out his notepad, flipping it open. Several more pages had gone blank, and he frowned slightly as he put it away.

"It's all right. Just burn the parchment and no harm will be done, madam." he replied softly and tucked the watch into his vest pocket, "I should get going now. Thank you both very much."

"That thirteenth hour is still a bad omen. Why do you insist on keeping it?" Barnsworth asked gruffly, folding his arms over his chest, squinting through his glasses again. Luke simply smiled, spreading his hands in an innocent shrug.

"My answer remains the same, sir. It marks the end of my mission, for better or for worse, though I hope for the best." he replied. He bowed and turned to leave, halted by Olivia grabbing onto his arm.

"Wait!" she exclaimed, her face a bright pink as she darted in front of him, "Before you leave... I wanted to... that is, I..." She twined her fingers together nervously before taking a deep breath, stepping up on her toes and pressing a kiss to a startled Luke's cheek. "Good luck, Sir Luke, and I pray you return safely." she murmured, then fled the room with her hands over her face. The teen held a hand to his cheek, eyes wide with shock as Barnsworth huffed behind him.

"Figures my granddaughter would come to fancy a gent like you. Don't break more hearts than need be, you hear?" the old man lectured, "And take care of yourself." Luke swallowed hard, nodding back at him before running for the door.

Tiny steps pounded on the pavement as breaths came in quick gasps. Faster, faster, hurry, hurry. Almost to the museum! Around the bend and up the street and there! Luke had just come down and was now entering an alley, a grim expression on his face. Rush, rush, just a little further. Around a bit and down the home stretch! Now!

Luke stood in the alley and pulled out the Time-Binder, flicking open the watch and thumbing a tiny button. The numbers reset themselves, flipping to the time that he had wanted to arrive at since before the whole mess started. He grinned as the face began to glow, then...

"I'm coming with you!" Hershel's voice exclaimed suddenly and Luke spun around in shock, watching with wide-eyed horror as the small boy lunged for him, top hat and all. His little arms wrapped around his waist, his school satchel swung at his side, and all Luke could think was 'Dear God, no!'

"Hershel! Let go of me!" Luke screamed in a panic as the Time-Binder's glow spread down his arm to the rest of his body, the light of something more crackling over him as the power of the Slipstream Device was sent to the watch through time, "What are you doing here?"

"I left a note with Mother and Father!" Hershel exclaimed happily, still gripping his mentor tightly and oblivious to the soft blue glow washing over them both, "I'm going to travel with you and help you help your other friend! I even packed! See?" Luke tried to push him away frantically, eyes darting back and forth between the boy and the pocket-watch.

"You can't! The watch wasn't designed to carry more than one person my size through time!" he exclaimed and the boy looked up at him curiously, finally noticing the light covering them.

"The watch is going to carry us?" he asked and the first shocks of the Slipstream's overload hit them both. Hershel shrieked in pain, his grip tightening as the light blazed and filled the alley. Luke's voice joined his, crying out in agony as space and time warped around them and dragged them both into the time stream with a violent explosion of energy. People in the vicinity would report later that it sounded as if a bomb had gone off, but when they went to check for the epicenter, all they could find were a few burnt bits of garbage.


	15. Chapter 15

The day was bright and pleasant, perfect weather for children to go out and play in the park or have a picnic. For Luke and Flora, two youngsters in the care of famed archaeologist and puzzle-solving teacher Professor Layton, sunny days like this meant one thing.

Spring cleaning.

Normally, children would run screaming for escape at the idea of spring cleaning, but these two found themselves enjoying the chores as each one became a game or a puzzle. And the sight of the great Professor Layton in an apron with a feather duster was simply icing on the cake. Bustling from top to bottom of their modest two-story house, the odd little 'family' dusted and scrubbed and swept and polished until everything was gleaming like new.

"Ahhh! That's so much nicer now!" the Professor remarked with a happy sigh, lifting a window to let the breeze in, "Like a brand new house. Cleaning brings its own reward, you know."

"Yes, Professor." Luke replied, flopping back in a chair and splaying limbs all over the place, "But I'd still like something a bit more... tangible?" Flora fanned herself as she sat more demurely on the couch, her ponytail tied up in a bun and kerchief to keep it out of the way. She nodded hesitantly in agreement, still a bit unsure of herself as the newer member of the household.

"A small treat would be rather lovely." she murmured with a smile, "If it's not too much, that is." Layton stepped back from the window, lifting a hand to his mouth in his usual pensive pose before smiling at the children.

"Well, since you did so well on your chores with little complaint, I suppose a treat isn't uncalled for." he remarked and chuckled at the bright and hopeful expressions on his two assistants' faces, "How about some ice cream? We can run down to the market..."

A violent explosion shook the house suddenly, startling them all as the force rattled dishes, furniture, picture frames and sent the Professor sprawling onto the floor. Yelping in alarm, Luke leaped from his seat and was at his side in a flash, helping the man sit up as Flora retrieved his silk top hat and handed it back, shaken by the blast.

"What was that?" Luke asked fearfully as Layton placed the hat carefully on his head, then lowered his hands, eyes dimming for the quickest second before blinking back to awareness.

"Hmm. I... I'm not sure." he replied and stood up, dusting himself off, "Well, let's go and see what caused that racket before any more harm happens. Are the two of you all right?" Luke and Flora both nodded and followed him out the door, searching for the source of the explosion.

They didn't have to go very far. A search of the immediate area had Flora cry out in fright, bringing Luke and Layton to her side almost instantly, peering into the shadows of a nearby alley where she pointed shakily. A young man clad in a long blue coat and blue cap lay on his back in the alley, a small boy dressed in brown coat and top hat slumped on top of him. Neither one moved at the sound of Flora's cry.

"Blimey! Dead people!" Luke exclaimed in awe, causing Flora to shriek again and Layton winced at the volume, shooting a stern look at his apprentice, who smiled sheepishly back. "Ah! Sorry, Professor..." he apologized. They hurried forward, Flora not so quickly, and watched in trepidation as Layton knelt by the two forms and checked for pulses.

"They're alive, just unconscious. Flora, take the little boy; I'll carry the larger one. Luke, gather their possessions. We'll treat them in the house." the Professor ordered quickly and calmly, lifting the small child and handing him to Flora. She struggled a bit but was able to hold the weight. Luke picked up the two fallen satchels and blinked at them before looking at his own.

"Hey, Professor...?" he began curiously as Layton worked on lifting the young man up himself, hooking his arms around his shoulders and under his knees.

"Not now, Luke! Hurry inside!" the Professor returned shortly, scanning the area around them quickly before rushing off with Flora at his heels. Luke tilted his head in confusion, shrugged and picked up a pocket-watch that had been in the older boy's hand, shouldering the extra bags, then following his mentor.

He stood on the walkway, gazing down at the staff he had assembled for the sole purpose of bringing his two concepts to life. He was far younger than any of them, yet they all looked at him with adoration, the light of hero worship in their eyes. He was young, but he was incredibly intelligent; his mentor, bless his soul, was the one to thank for that.

One of the scientists hurried up to him with freshly printed reports in his hand, an excited look on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but paused to rethink what he was about to say at the warning glare shot at him. Then the excitement returned full force.

"Sir Penford, we've done it! We've successfully transferred the test subject two hours into the future and brought it back!" the man declared and gestured with the papers at the cluster of scientists standing around the test subject, a small robotic dog. Luke leaped down from the walkway, a drop of only a few feet, and made his way to the cluster. The group parted upon noticing him, showing him the dog with a ribbon tied around its tail and a golden pocket-watch hanging around its neck. He studied it carefully, then looked to his staff.

"Where is the ribbon of this time?" he asked and a woman passed him a length of ribbon the same color as the one tied to the dog. Luke eyed it just as critically, looked back at the other ribbon, then promptly tore the one in his hand almost in two. The ribbon on the dog suddenly ripped as well, and Luke lifted an eyebrow in contemplation.

"Had the timeline been locked when you brought Gozo back?" he asked the group of scientists. They blinked at him and Luke frowned more sternly, "Let me make it more clear for you. Did the watch ring when you brought my dog back from the future?" The group shook their heads and Luke lifted the ribbon before himself. "If the watch did not ring, then time is not locked, which means you have just opened a paradox." he lectured, "This ribbon is now torn, which means two hours after the dog left, you tied a torn ribbon to its tail and sent it back to this time. But the ribbon that arrived was whole, which means the ribbon that was tied was also whole, which means I had not torn the ribbon. Yet you have witnessed me do such a thing." Luke threw the ribbon aside, glaring up at the scientists as they all stepped back nervously, "You were so caught up in the sending of the dog that you completely forgot to cover for casual loops! What the bloody hell were you thinking; you could have gotten yourselves caught in the loop!"

"But, Professor-!" one of the women began and the group gasped collectively, hands flying up to their mouths as Luke reached into his pocket and brought out a small mason jar half full of coins. He opened the jar and held it out sternly, waiting as the woman groaned and dug out her change to toss inside. The staff had been warned about this sort of thing and always dreaded seeing Luke pull his little jar at any slip-up. The new coins clinked against the glass and Luke shook it, gazing at the red line painted on it with an unreadable expression.

"One more slip and you should reach the limit." he commented flatly, "The song you will be performing will be 'Modern Major General' if you call me that title again." He pocketed the jar and turned a firm gaze at the group of scientists. "Now, burn both of these ribbons and review your data. Check for errors and close the time stream immediately." he ordered, gesturing at the large machine set against the far wall of the room, "I don't want any significant temporal corruption escaping this facility!"

"Right away, Sir Penford!" the staff exclaimed and scattered to get to work. Luke sighed, shaking his head before heading out of the room. Another failure; until he could master time, he couldn't afford to waste a second of it. The technology had to be sound, all contingencies accounted for, absolutely nothing could be allowed to go wrong. After all...

Its maiden mission was intended to be its swan song as well...

His head hurt.

He was getting sick of that.

It pounded fiercely and his limbs felt disconnected and his stomach rebelled at having to have gone through that horrendous torture trip for the second time. He groaned and something damp and refreshingly cool came to rest on his forehead. It was heavenly and, for a brief moment, Luke felt like he should be alarmed by the fact that someone had responded to his pain, but a gentle hand dabbed at his cheeks and the moment passed. There were hushed voices nearby, people talking, and Luke tried again to care about his surroundings. He was someplace comfortable and soft and the compress on his forehead was soothing away the headache. Luke made a faint mental note to be more wary of the side effects of time travel; the pain and the irritability were annoying prices to pay. Twitching his left hand slightly, he became aware of something heavy resting against him; heavy, and warm, and shaped like a small child...

Hershel.

And it was the reminder that the young Layton had been dragged through time with him that had Luke shoot upright with a cry of horror, looking around wildly in hopes of seeing Hershel nearby. And it turned out that he was, sprawled in the bed beside him after having been pushed off in Luke's sudden panic and now blinking blearily up at him. Luke blinked back, startled first by the fact that he was lying in a honest to goodness bed instead of some alley in the city, then by the fact that Hershel was right there with him sans silk top hat, and finally by the fact that Hershel recognized him, decided he was being a twit, and punched him in the side out of annoyance before turning back over and folding the pillow over his head.

"Head hurts. Shut up. And stop pushing." the boy growled drowsily. Luke blinked several times at him, startled by the blow, before another voice caught his attention.

"I suppose you didn't take enough of the impact for him, hm?"

Luke froze, paling as his eyes went wide. That voice! No, it couldn't be! He hadn't heard that voice in years! Did this mean...? Could he be...?

He turned his head, wanting to hope and dreading it all the same. And standing there as hearty and hale as Luke last remembered him was Professor Hershel Layton himself, looking down at him with a stoic expression as Flora and... Luke choked suddenly, hand flying up to his face in a pathetic attempt to shield his features from his younger self peeking around the Professor at him.

"That bloke's copping my style, Professor!" Young Luke griped, glaring at him, "Get your own style!"

"Luke, that was very impolite." Layton scolded the boy gently and Young Luke winced, properly chastised.

"Sorry, Professor." he murmured. Flora blushed fiercely behind the man's back, her eyes averted from Luke the entire time.

"Sir... he's... uncovered..." she whispered haltingly and Luke's face flushed at the sight of her. Even now, he still thought of her as that lovely girl he had yearned to see again in his own time, and now in the past he stood on more even footing with her in terms of age, separated by two years now instead of four. Then her words registered and he was blushing for a whole new reason.

"Where are my clothes?" Luke shrieked, realizing that he'd been stripped down to his boxers and bandaged all over. Hershel blindly punched him again. Layton gingerly pushed Flora out of the room to save her from further embarrassment, then murmured softly to Young Luke, who nodded and headed for a nearby dresser drawer, opening it up. By then, Luke had pulled the blanket up to wrap around himself like a cocoon, which pulled it away from Hershel, who decided that Luke was being more troublesome than was worth his usual admiration, and kicked him. Luke reached out and grabbed the offending limb in retaliation. "Stop that!" he hissed under his breath, "It hurts, shortstuff!"

"So does you yelling like a ninny!" Hershel grumbled back, waving a hand at him with his head still shoved under the pillow as Luke peered closer at him, then recoiled upon discovering the youngster in a similar state as himself.

Young Luke finally brought over the two stacks of clothes, setting them on the bed and staring at Luke's outfit for a long moment before shaking his head and gazing up at the Professor in curiosity. Layton merely watched the two in bed before patting his apprentice on the head.

"Come, Luke. Let's let them have privacy enough to be decent, then we can all discuss what happened in the living room." he remarked evenly, leading the boy out of the room and shutting the door. Luke groaned and facepalmed as Hershel sat up at last and held his head, groaning in pain.

"Everything hurts, Sir Luke. What happened?" he asked his mentor as the older boy reached for his clothes and began the painfully slow process of pulling them on without irritating the burns he knew were under the bandages.

"We were dragged through something that hurt us both pretty badly." Luke admitted cautiously, "I tried to take the brunt of it, but..." He sighed and pulled his cap back on before turning to help dress Hershel, as the boy had begun dressing himself and whimpered with each jerky movement. "I'm very sorry, Hershel. You shouldn't have followed me back there and now look. You're caught up in my mission and now I have to keep you safe as well as my other friends!" he went on miserably, "I just seem to keep failing the people closest to me left and right. At this point, I actually regret not letting Don Paolo kidnap me in the museum." Hershel blinked up at him as Luke straightened his little jacket, then frowned and smacked the teen on the back of his hand sharply. Luke jerked his hand away out of shock more than pain. Hershel Layton and 'physical punishment' didn't sit together with him, and here the young Layton had just smacked him as a punishment rather than a playful/annoyed gesture.

"You stop blaming yourself! I wanted to come, so I came! So traveling with you in that funny way hurt me a little; so what? It wasn't as bad as the switchings I'd get from Father whenever I misbehaved!" Hershel declared, expression fierce among the white strips of medical tape affixed to his face, "We're here to help your friend, right? Then let's get started! What do we have to do?"

Luke stared down at the little boy that sat before him, determined to follow him through time and space to stay by him and help, all the while never knowing that the entire mission revolved around his future self, for Luke would give up everything to save his life. But in the end, when all was done and the thirteenth hour struck, would Hershel be happy to go home, assured of his future? Or would he forever hate his future apprentice, and destroy Luke's chances of a happier timeline?

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and considered everything that had happened to him, will happen to him, and may never have the chance to happen. Finally, he exhaled slowly, opening his eyes with a grin that masked his pain.

"All right then, Hershel. You can help me." Luke began, "Here is what you need to know about where we are..."

Luke looked up at his mentor worriedly, small hands gripping his teacup as the Professor kept his fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose, flinching slightly as if trying unsuccessfully to ward off a headache. Flora poured out a cup of tea for him, holding it out in the hopes that it would help soothe the pain away. Layton managed a smile for their sake, accepting the cup and sipping carefully at it, flinching once more as the sharp pain that had begun shortly after the arrival of their new guests ran through his temples again.

"Argh! Where the bloody hell is my watch?" one of their guests suddenly screamed in a panicked rage and Layton had a sudden urge to go upstairs and smack somebody, quelling it quickly so only a slight twitch escaped his control. Flora's eyes went wide with shock and her hands flew up to her ears to block out further vulgarities. Luke simply looked up at the ceiling, blinking in confusion.

"He's going on about that? It's down here on the table if he wants it." he remarked and pouted when Layton gave him a stern look, "Well, his bag and the other kid's bag were getting heavy to carry, so I left it all at the desk near the foot of the stairs!" The Professor felt another twitch and resolved to reacquaint himself with his gentlemanly studies.

Thumps and thudding sounded suddenly, and the three of them bore witness to the blue-clad teenager running down the stairs with his young companion sitting on his shoulders and laughing wildly, the young man searching the area in a panic. The boy looked around himself quickly but more thoroughly, casing the house as though in search of valuables before spotting Layton, Luke and Flora in the living room. He broke into a wide smile.

"Sir Luke! There are the people from the room upstairs! See? See?" he exclaimed, pointing at them. 'Sir Luke' twitched visibly, gritting his teeth as he turned his head to stare first at them, then glare up at the boy.

"And I just got done telling you not to call me that, Hesch." he growled in exasperation. Layton's mouth fell open in a most uncivil manner, faint memories of a strange boy who helped him find his life's passion tickling the surface of his brain. Flora blinked and looked over at Luke, who tilted his head in astonishment.

"Blimey, Professor!" he exclaimed, "The bloke's even gone and stolen my name!" 'Sir Luke' smacked himself in forehead, which Hesch found to be incredibly amusing and Layton echoed the sentiments with a tired, but tolerant smile, deciding against questioning his own memories in favor of discovering the truth of the here and now.

"Flora, Luke, would you set out tea for our two guests? We have quite a plethora of introductions to make, it would seem." he remarked with a sigh. Maybe he should have stayed in bed today.


	16. Chapter 16

Luke found himself having to repeat an edited variant of his story several times in explaining things to the three people sitting across from himself and Hershel. He wasn't entirely too pleased that he would stutter whenever Flora looked up at him with those doe-like brown eyes, but he took deep breaths and tried his best to keep control of the situation. The initial shock had been expected.

"You're me? From the future?" Young Luke had blurted, immediately shushed afterward by both Professor Layton and Hershel in a synchronized lifting of fingers to lips that Luke found amusing and endearing. That led invariably to explaining Hershel as being the past self of the good Professor, to which Hershel balked and glared at his older self in distaste.

"That can'tbe me!" he protested in childish indignation, "He's old and fat and smells like Farnie!" The Professor lifted an eyebrow, mouth twisting into some strange amalgamation of distaste, irritation, humor and wounded pride. Young Luke scowled, jumping from the sofa and shaking a fist threateningly at the boy before him.

"'Ey! Where do you get off insulting the Professor like that?" he had snapped and Hershel had chucked off his hat, glaring right back. If not for the Professor tugging on Young Luke's shirt and Luke doing the same to the back of Hershel's jacket, both parties were fairly certain the boys would wind up in a tussle right there. After all, they were fighting over matters of pride, and didn't quite seem to understand that the person being fought with and the person being fought over were one and the same.

"Who is this Farnie person?" Flora had asked of the Professor out of curiosity, watching him pull Young Luke back and reprimand him gently on his behavior. On the other side of the tea table, Luke was doing the same to Hershel. Both boys nodded, chastised about how they acted but once they were let go, their eyes met across the room with challenging sparks.

'My mentor's more keen than yours.'

'The Professor will kick your mentor's bum.'

Luke didn't quite catch what happened, and tilted his head slightly at the twitch Professor Layton gave, fingers going up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Then a strange sense of déjà vu came to him and he scowled slightly. The Time-Binder's effects were definitely weakened; both he and the Professor were picking up faint residual 'memories' of whatever their younger selves were doing right then and there. They wouldn't be clear, Luke was certain of that thanks to his careful analysis of temporal theory and the power of the Time-Binder's fail-safe, but they were probably going to cause a few headaches during their stay in the present -past- -Hershel's future-. Don't start that again.

"Farnie, or rather Farnwal, was one of the butlers of the Layton household. When I was young, I always knew when he was coming into a room because of the faint smell of lavender and roses from the lotion he put on his hands. It would precede him and give me warning enough to cease whatever I was doing." Professor Layton finally answered quietly and blinked, pulling his own hand down and considering it with a new awareness. "Hmm. Now I wonder if I should change lotions myself." he mused with a faint smile.

"Hershel, apologize to the Professor for your words. A gentleman does not use such words and opinions about others in that manner. It's very rude." Luke told his apprentice with a stern look and Hershel sighed begrudgingly, turning his hat over and over in his hands.

"I'm sorry I called you old, fat, and smelly." he apologized and bowed quickly before giving the Professor a calculating look, "But if I become you, then I'm not going to be eating as much candy as I do now. And that smell is going to give me away everywhere I go." Layton only sighed and resigned himself to following a similar diet, switching hand creams, and doing a bit more exercise than usual. Young Luke lifted a hand to his chin thoughtfully, then blinked in realization before looking up at his mentor with a worried expression.

"Does this mean we won't be going for ice cream today?" he asked plaintively. He had really been looking forward to the treat and it just didn't seem fair to miss it because of a pair of interloping time-travelers, or whatever they were calling themselves. Hershel lit up and spun around to look up at Luke.

"Ice cream! Oh, please, Sir Luke, can we have some?" he pleaded and Luke lifted an eyebrow with a disbelieving frown, hands rising to rest on his waist.

"You just finished saying you weren't going to be eating as many sweets to avoid getting chubby at the waist." he pointed out and Hershel sighed, making his way over to Layton with some odd air of purpose to him. The Professor lifted his arms to avoid spilling tea on the boy as he climbed onto the sofa between him and Young Luke, and then threw his arms around the older man's waist. Luke stared at him in shock, Young Luke squawked at the action and quickly covered his mouth, embarrassed, and Flora twittered in delight, clapping her hands at what she believed to be the cutest scene in the world. The wheat-haired boy only furrowed his brows as if contemplating something, still pressed against his future self, before pulling back and straightening his little coat.

"I changed my mind." he decided haughtily, "He's not that fat. I can have a few more sweets before he bursts a belt." Luke groaned softly, face-palming once more. Layton only chuckled, rubbing his younger self on the head with sheepish affection, uncertain whether he should take that as a compliment or another veiled insult. He decided on the former for now; after all, Hershel was just a child.

"What a relief! Then ice cream we shall have. Luke, Flora, get your coats." he remarked and stood up, adjusting his hat as he smiled at his aged apprentice, "You and Hershel are more than welcome to join us, Sir Luke." Luke sighed as he watched his younger self and Flora both hurry to collect their things, before managing a smile at his former mentor.

"We'd be glad to. After all, part of my mission, like I explained earlier, is to remain with you until my time ends." he remarked, walking over to look up at him with a more tearful expression, "It truly is good to see you, Professor." he murmured, causing the older man to look faintly confused. Luke chuckled ruefully, shaking his head as he picked up the tea tray. "I must be sentimental. Please excuse me. Hershel, get your hat on; you still want ice cream, don't you?" The young Layton grinned and bounced off the sofa, running to get his hat from where he'd left it to measure his future self's waist. Luke simply watched him hurry off, then took the tea tray into the kitchen, grinning back at his former mentor when he tried to protest his actions. "I know my way around this house still, Professor! Think nothing of it!" he called back cheerfully.

"Oh dear. I think we have the space to accommodate additional guests." Layton sighed, curling his hand before his mouth as Young Luke, Flora, and Hershel all zeroed in on him, chanting 'Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream' in unison, "Not so sure about the nerves, though."

The best place to go for ice cream was a little vendor stand in the park just a few blocks away from the brownstone house the Professor and the two children lived in. And the best place to enjoy the ice cream was in that same park. Though the Laytonmobile was a touch more crowded than usual, it still served the purpose of carrying all the passengers. There had been a slight snag from Hershel, though, upon leaving the house. He had immediately gone to the driveway and waited there expectantly. Young Luke and Flora stared at him for all of two minutes before the top-hatted boy turned around and looked at them with a disapproving frown. Then he glared up at the house they lived in and loved so dearly, huffed, then stomped back to Luke's side, grabbing his hand and shielding himself among the folds of his lengthy jacket. The children looked to the Professor for an explanation.

"He's still expecting a chauffeur and mansion." Layton admitted quietly and with the faintest trace of guilt in his voice, "I grew up in a higher-class environment, so that may be what he was expecting of me." Young Luke whistled under his breath in awe as Flora blinked and blushed. Layton cleared his throat and shook his head. "Well, regardless, that is not the way I live now and not how we live. We must learn to be independent and reliant on ourselves so as not to be burdens upon each other or society. Work together as you live together and you can overcome any situation together." he declared and gave a stern look to his younger self, "So I do hope you keep that in mind, Hershel."

"Poor people." Hershel grumbled, glaring almost venomously at Young Luke, "My mentor is just as rich as my father."

"'Ey! At least the Professor's not spoiled and pampered like yours!" the child apprentice shot back. Luke and Layton sighed in commiseration. This wasn't going to be easy.

But all was cleared for the moment and remained cleared as the car pulled up near the park and the children in the back clambered out, eager for ice cream and play time and much fun yet to be had. Luke walked beside the Professor more sedately, hands in his pockets as he gazed out at the park. Neither of them spoke, just enjoyed a companionable silence until they reached and sat at a small picnic table near where the boys and older girl played happily on the grass near an expanse of flowers. Just off in the distance was an ornate fountain, and Luke could feel a sudden tension ripple through the air from Layton's body. He glanced aside, watching guiltily as the corners of the older man's mouth twitched downward. With a sigh, he shook his head.

"I'm truly sorry, Professor. If not for me, you wouldn't fear the fountains you once loved." Luke murmured and the Professor blinked, looking over at him in momentary confusion before smiling and shaking his own head.

"No, no. You aren't truly to blame for that." he returned and looked distant, one hand brought up to his chin in thought, "It's a bit unclear at the moment because of our current situation, but I remember a day when I went to visit the fish in the pond as usual. One of the garden hands accidentally spilled some poison meant for insects into the water, and I was horrified to see my friends suffer until their demise. It was quite traumatizing." Layton narrowed his eyes for a moment, then sighed regretfully, "And ever since, I couldn't stand being near a fountain out of fear that I would see those images in my mind's eye once more. But now there is this new memory, just as faint but just as real, of seeing you struggling in the water, and fearing for your life and safety. That in itself would also cause a phobia. Either way, it would seem as if I was fated to develop a fear of fountains. I may admire them from a distance, but I dare not go near one, and I warn Young Luke and Flora persistently to be careful near them."

"So I can never help you get over it?" Luke asked softly, sadly. The Professor lifted an eyebrow, twitching his fingers slightly when Flora danced her way to the fountain teasingly.

"Not really, but I admire your attempts and appreciate your concerns. If you'll excuse me..." he replied almost in a rush and stood up, waving at the girl and his apprentice, "Flora! Please come away from there! Luke! What have I told you about rough-housing on public property? Apologize to Hershel for what you've done!" Flora skipped happily back to the boys as Young Luke shoved Hershel back to the ground, pinning him by the shoulder, both of them dirtied from wrestling, "And for the sake of my own good health, do get off of him!" Luke chuckled, pulling the Time-Binder from his pocket and releasing it from its fob for inspection, then clicking a dial on it almost absently.

"Really now, Professor Layton; you're no innocent yourself. I wonder what Hershel was up to, hmm?" he remarked and held the watch out to the older gentleman, "I'll purchase the ice cream for us all. My treat. Would you mind holding this for me? I trust it in your hands for now, knowing a pickpocket can guard best against another pickpocket." Layton smiled in return, a shadow of his impish childhood playing over the expression as he accepted the watch and prepared to put it away. "Ah, no, no. Just hold it in your hand. I'd feel better if you did." Luke corrected quickly and hurried away without more explanation. The Professor stared after him in confusion, then gazed down at the golden watch in his hand.

It certainly looked normal enough, and yet there was some nagging feeling far in the back of his head that told him it wasn't normal. He ran his thumb along the edge and felt a catch there release itself under the pressure, the lid of the watch popping up to show him its face. Two sets of analog digits peeked at him from within the inner lining, the face gleamed at him with its snowy white surface, the thirteen black Roman numerals and hands sparkling... Wait a moment. Thirteen? Why would Luke carry a watch that marked thirteen hours? Layton tilted his head, lifting his free hand to his mouth to begin pondering it when he froze at seeing the analog numbers begin to move. Well, the second set moved, the first set remained the same. The numbers rolled on their little dials, clicking away madly before resting at last.

Then the face of the watch began glowing softly, as though by its own luminous feature, and the hands began to move of their own accord, spinning rapidly around the face of the clock before finally coming to a stop, both the minute and the hour hands, directly over the Roman numeral one. Layton peered at it, finding himself intrigued and suspicious about the watch. What was the meaning of the thirteen hours? Why did it suddenly move both hands to the first hour? For the length of time he'd held it, the watch neither kept time nor ticked. Now it was ticking away, but neither hand was moving from their spot over the first hour. He closed the watch, a smile growing on his face as he found himself with a fascinating new puzzle; Luke's pocket-watch.

Flora rolled her eyes in an unladylike manner as she watched the boys continue roughing each other up even after the Professor had told them both to stop it. They rolled and tussled and generally made messes of themselves as only boys could, and Flora was sure that she would be stuck with having to clean up after them both because she was the lady and the lady of the house knew best about washing clothes and dirty little boys. Never mind that Young Luke and the Professor had managed just fine on their own without a maid or two on hand, save for those instances when they would look around themselves, find the duties too daunting for the three of them alone and the Professor would hire a few maids for the day.

"Get off!" Hershel growled, struggling to get free of being pinned back to the ground for the fifth time in a row. Whatever it was that started the feud between him and Layton's apprentice, it escalated into the contest of strength that consistently found Hershel pinned down with Young Luke sitting on top, a smug look on his face. Two of those five times, he'd been pinned face-down, so he now sported a set of unsightly dirt smudges. Young Luke himself carried more of the stains on his clothes, but his hair was thoroughly mussed by Hershel rubbing his hat violently onto his head in attempts to blind him with his own hair.

Both hats were quickly discarded after that, and Flora kept watch on the two articles, knowing full well that the two boys were very particular about their hats. Or at least each other's, as one instance in the car with them swapping hats had the older Luke gripe suddenly about feeling very odd and the Professor went into another twitch fit, his own eyes glancing over at the young man's cap with something akin to envy. Flora switched them back right away and the men in front both sighed in relief.

"Admit it! Professor Layton's the best mentor in all of England!" Young Luke declared haughtily, "Then I'll let you up." Hershel struggled again, huffing as he kicked futilely.

"No, no, no!" he yelled in furious protest, "Sir Luke is the best! Now get off before your bloated bum crushes me!" Young Luke only poked at the other boy's forehead, cackling like some mad little troll. Flora sighed and shook her head. She just couldn't see how these two little boys would grow up to become those two men over there. She looked over at the picnic table wistfully, spotting Professor Layton sitting there casually with something in his hand. Another look around and she blushed at the sight of the Luke from the future walking confidently towards the table with a tray full of ice cream cups.

"Boys! Stop that! Look! Sir Luke brought the ice cream!" she scolded the younger children and scooped up their hats, hurrying off to join the more mature gentlemen at the picnic table. Young Luke looked up, distracted by the temptation of ice cream, which was all Hershel needed to twist himself and chuck the boy off, rolling aside and getting to his feet in one fluid motion.

"You'd get caught by truancy officers if you get distracted like that." he taunted and darted off with a laugh, pulling ahead of Young Luke as Layton's apprentice scrambled to his feet and ran after him, yelling and shaking a fist in the air.

Luke accepted the watch from the Professor upon setting down the tray of ice cream. He recognized that expression on his former mentor's face and smirked; Layton found a new puzzle to gnaw on. Clipping the Time-Binder back onto its fob and slipping it into his pocket, he settled himself down and took stock of his surroundings. Flora was rushing up towards them and his mind suddenly went blank. Her face flushed with joy, ponytail streaming in the wind, eyes sparkling; it was enough to empty his head of all sense and thought.

It took a smack from Hershel to his hand in order for him to snap out of it, and by then everyone had already gotten into their ice cream, thanking him for providing the treat. Luke shook his head, gave a gracious smile, then looked down at his apprentice to check on how he was, and simply stared again. The boy was a complete wreck, covered in dirt smudges, clothes and hair rumpled and mussed; what on earth had he been doing? Hershel said nothing, just spooned ice cream eagerly into his mouth as his eyes scanned the park quickly and periodically.

"Hershel, how long have you been acting as the lookout?" Luke asked in concern. This really wasn't normal at all. Why were these kinds of traits prevalent in Hershel when he'd never seen them in Layton? Unless... He looked over at the Professor quickly, suspicious. The older man was speaking to his own apprentice, scolding him on his behavior as Young Luke offered weak protests and excuses. Every now and then, now that Luke was watching for it, the Professor would glance around, taking in the area with movement so quick it was almost impossible to tell he'd done it. Young Luke didn't notice a thing, just nodded humbly as he kept his eyes on the older man attentively.

"Only a while. Since we left the house, I think." Hershel replied while Luke was watching his former mentor, "Nothing's going on, so you're safe."

"I meant for that gang of boys you were in. How long were you their lookout?" the teen asked him under his breath. Hershel blinked, the spoon in his mouth as he considered the question. He pulled it free slowly, then pasted it to his nose.

"About a year, maybe more. Hawk-Eye was the name they gave me when we were actually doing anything, so the adults wouldn't know who were were." the boy answered carelessly, "I also learned some bait and switch, lock picking, pocket picking, and distraction. I was working on improv when you chased me earlier in the week." Luke stared at him in a mix of awe and horror; his mentor was an Artful Dodger at the age of ten? Hershel pulled his hands away, grinning as the spoon remained attached to the tip of his nose. Young Luke noticed him and laughed, covering his mouth with both hands and attracting the attentions of Flora and Layton, who both took note of Hershel's trick and joined in. Luke simply placed a hand over his eyes, wishing he wasn't learning quite this much about the good Professor.


	17. Chapter 17

Finding room for their guests was a little tricky. The Professor chose the room that Luke would be using, and gave him a stern, silent glare when it looked as if he was about to protest. This was because Luke's room was on the far end of the hall, opposite ends of where Flora's room was. Not that the elder Luke was untrustworthy around the Reinhold heiress, no, no. It was more for Layton's own peace of mind that the two would be kept apart during the night so as to avoid sowing any needless temptations their way. Luke's protest, when he was finally allowed to speak, was that the room he was given sandwiched him between the Professor and Hershel. And Hershel was known for giving him rude awakenings.

In the end, Layton drew the line and Luke didn't cross it, and Hershel didn't care much, only threw a shoe at Young Luke when the boy called him a baby for wanting to spend the night in his mentor's room. After that came the subject of dinner, for the day was drawing to a close and the Professor had work in the morning whether or not time-travelers crashed into his schedule. Young Luke headed off for the kitchen, already planning what to make and arming himself with reasons for why Flora should stay away from the cooker and the knives, when he blinked at the sight of his older self already in there, checking the pantry for ingredients.

"Eh? 'Ey, what are you doing in here? I cook the meals." the blue-clad boy protested, pulling an apron from a nearby closet. The older Luke glanced over at him, stoic expression still on his face.

"I know. I'm just checking to see if I can be of help." he replied and looked around himself, faintly lost, "I remember most of the layout, but I had it changed a lot in my own time for security. So, I'm not entirely sure what is what anymore." Young Luke raised an eyebrow at that, walking over to collect ingredients for dinner. His future self walked the rest of the kitchen, hand raised and trailing over cupboards as though feeling them for the first time.

"Huh. The Professor usually doesn't have things in the house changed that much. How did you convince him to rearrange the whole kitchen?" the boy asked and Luke paused, hand twitching the slightest bit. After a moment, he turned to look back at Young Luke with a smirk.

"It was easy. I told the Professor Layton of my time that the kitchen upgrade would be like a puzzle to figure out, and he let me do whatever I wanted with it." he replied cheerfully and Young Luke laughed, shaking his head.

"Sounds like the Professor, all right! I'll remember that for later!" he chuckled and set the food he had gathered up onto the table, "I think a nice pot roast should do the trick. Can you get the oven going?" Luke studied the cooker, searching for the bit of flint that was used to light the fire. "So you're acting as that Hershel kid's teacher, huh? What's it like being the mentor to the future Professor Layton?" the boy added and huffed, "Kind of scrawny and weak, from what I see. I still can't believe that he's the real deal."

"I wasn't prepared for it at all." the young man commented, finally locating and striking the flint. Once a decent fire started up, he closed the cooker and turned to watch his younger self prepare the meat and spices at the table. "And he may be physically smaller and weaker than you, but he makes up for his lack of strength with cunning and quick movements. He even stole my watch from me the first time I bumped into him!" Luke added with a chuckle, "He's a bit of a challenge to mentor, since I can't affect him too much. I may end up altering time by mistake if I do that." He paused and tapped a fingertip against his chin thoughtfully, "Although, I think I may have done so already. Oh dear. The dirty jar puzzle... he learned it from me and when he gets older he tells it to you, which is where I learned it and... bugger." Young Luke looked up at him with a wry grin as his future self pinched the bridge of his nose out of a real headache. "Casual loops are tricky beasts. Luckily, this is information-based and should resolve itself at the end of my mission." he muttered.

"That's something else that I don't quite understand. You said you were here with the runt on a mission, but you never said what the mission entailed." the boy added and Luke gave him a mirror image of his own grin.

"Just checking to be sure something that happens, doesn't." he remarked vaguely and pulled out his pocket-watch, flicking it open and gazing down at it for a moment before closing it back up and putting it away, "Where is Hershel anyway? And Flora? Doesn't she usually come in here to help you cook?" Young Luke stifled another snort, uttering a short 'Heh'in its place.

"Last I saw 'im, Flora was still trying to get the runt washed up. I think the Professor's helping, but more than likely he's in his office, working on tomorrow's lecture." he replied and paused in his work, a suddenly somber look on his face. "Hey, older me?"

"Call me Penford, if you like." Luke cut in smoothly, wincing only the slightest bit, "Luke Penford is the name I often went by... our family name." Young Luke smiled sadly, nodding.

"Right. Penford. Anyway, I was just wondering what the future is like. What will become of me... when I become you?" he asked softly, shoulders rising as if to hide from the answer. Luke stood at the basin, gazing at the boy he had once been before closing his eyes, inhaling slowly. A sharp ache echoed out from his heart and he breathed out.

"Ask the Professor. He knows. He always knew." he replied just as softly, and left the kitchen, unable to bear another question like that. It was too dangerous. Young Luke watched him go, then looked around himself, suddenly feeling very lost, alone, and frightened by the unknown.

Hershel kept his eyes squeezed shut while Flora made quick work of the dirt smudge on his cheek. He wasn't sure what to make of the whole situation still. There were lots of things that were missing, and this wasn't even a proper living space for someone of the Layton name! Why on earth would he move out here when he grew old? Maybe getting older meant getting dumber? But on the other hand, there were some nice things about the place that he hadn't noticed were lacking in his own home until he got here. Like this bath, for starters.

In the Layton household, Hershel had the aid of various maids all bustling about to get him all cleaned up and tidy for any occasion. They were quick and efficient and got the job done and Hershel was fine with that. It meant less time actually in the tub and more for playing when he got out. But here, this one girl, that Flora person that Sir Luke seemed to go daft over, was the only one scrubbing at his cheeks. One girl to help him with his bath, who told him in no uncertain terms that there were certain places on his body that he was just going to have to wash himself, and blushed horribly as she said it. Needless to say, that little conversation made Hershel want to sink into the water and never come up again. Oh, how embarrassing!

But it felt strangely good to rely on himself to get washed and cleaned up, and his confidence in doing this on his own was enough that he waved Flora off, telling her to go busy herself with something else. Flora blinked at him, laughed, then hurried off, eyes twinkling as she made her way towards the kitchen. A minute or so after she left, Hershel heard a knock on the bathroom door and frowned as he wrapped himself up in the biggest, fluffiest towel he could find, one that bore the Layton Family insignia.

"Hershel? Are you in there? Do you need any help washing up?" Sir Luke called through the door.

"I'm fine! I can do this by myself! I'm not a baby!" the boy shouted back proudly. He could swear he heard his mentor chuckling on the other side.

"All right then. I'll be checking on the rest of the house. See you at dinner!" And with that Sir Luke left him be. Hmm, Sir Luke was doing something about the house? Time for his apprentice to come and help! A rougher than intended toweling later, Hershel had pulled his clothes back on and hurried out to join him, eager to see what was going on. Maybe this was part of that secret mission Sir Luke was talking about!

Walking around the house brought a sense of nostalgia that Luke missed. The outside of the house had changed almost as much as the interior in his own timeline, the products of security measures, paranoia and a need for isolation in his grief. Gone were the friendly little hedges and flowers, replaced with the latest in barricades; gone were the simple coffee-colored curtains that invited coziness through the windows, shielded shutters took their place in one fell swoop; gone was the inviting, homey feeling the Layton house once exuded, and an intimidating, almost threatening aura surrounded it instead. Luke was saddened by the changes, for although they were necessary to keep himself alive, they killed off any lingering remnants of what the house had once been.

He checked the Time-Binder again, watching the minute hand ticking away from the numeral one. Now that it had been calibrated to the current time, thanks to Professor Layton's tachyon signature extracted from him when he held the watch, Luke could watch the countdown of events as they happened. Twelve individual, consecutive historical events had been hunted down and pinpointed as the major points in the timeline where Layton's life spun into the inevitable; his murder. He knew Don Paolo was behind it somehow; the madman took credit for the slaying when he was twelve and went down in history as having done the most diabolical deed of the decade. What he couldn't figure out was how it was all set up, until he learned to pick apart the timestream. Now with the knowledge of future events and the power of the Time-Binder, Luke was set to follow the timeline until the pivotal point, the twelfth hour, was averted and then locked down by the thirteenth hour. He clapped it shut with a grin.

"And the future that should have been, will be." he sighed and pulled his notepad out to jot down his notes for the day. He flipped through its pages, then stopped and did so again, more slowly. The leafs of paper that were blank had grown in number since he last checked it, and the first few pages had their writing returned, but garbled, chaotic. It looked as if two sets of notes had been written on those pages, one directly laying over the other. This couldn'tbe a good sign. What was happening to his past? Had he altered something in this timeline? Luke flipped open the watch once more, but the face of the Time-Binder remained perfectly white. If he had done something to shift the timestream and render the Antikythera Mechanism void, then it would have flashed red and sounded that bothersome alarm that would tell him he had roughly five seconds to kiss his bum goodbye.

So something else was affecting his past in the future... Luke grimaced at the odd phrase, slipping both the pad and pocket-watch away. Well, bugger it then. He didn't start taking those notes until he was eleven and the Luke of now still had four months to go until he was that age and the thirteenth hour was supposed to ring in three weeks so by the time the mess-up came around it wouldn't be his problem anymore and the mess would resolve itself at the same time. He threw his arms up and went marching back into the house. Not his problem! This and that traitor researcher, whoever it was!

Hershel pushed open a door, peeking inside the room and sweeping his eyes over it quickly. Bookshelves, small amount of furniture, large window, well placed lamps, a figure bent over a desk... office. This was definitely an office, which meant valuables would be in desk drawers, a small safe hidden among the books... the figure twitched.

"I know that your special talent is second nature to you, but I don't keep valuables in such obvious places, Hershel." Layton mused aloud, a wry grin spreading on his face. He looked over at the door then, taking in the sight of the little boy standing in the doorway. "Is there something I can help you with? You usually stay close to Luke." the Professor added after a minute of silence. Hershel blinked up at him, glanced around again, then entered the office, closing the door behind him before trotting up to his older self.

"Sorry. I was looking for Sir Luke, but he wasn't in the house." he remarked and stood on his toes to peer at the papers on the desk, "What are you doing?" Layton sat back and removed the reading glasses he had slipped on, rubbing his fingertips lightly against his eyes in an effort to massage the tiredness away.

"I was compiling the list of topics that I will be lecturing about tomorrow at the university." he answered at last, slipping the glasses back on and watching in amusement as Hershel reached out to tap at the papers. He leaned forward, surprising the boy by lifting him up onto his own lap and then pulling the sheets up for a closer look. "See? I'll be discussing the ancient Mayan calendar system in this discussion here, followed by their numeral system. I'm an archaeologist, you see, and I give lectures on my findings to the local university." Hershel looked up at him excitedly.

"So I did it? I become an achey-ologist?" he asked, eyes wide and bright. Layton chuckled, setting the papers aside and picking up a bowl of candy in its place.

"It is pronounced archaeologist, Hershel, and if you do well in school and work hard, you will indeed become one. Now, before we are called away to dinner, how about a puzzle? I think you might find this one to your taste." he remarked brightly and held the glass bowl before the little boy, "Here is a bowl of candy. This bowl has only ever been touched by five people. There are twelve pieces of candy in it right now. How many pieces of candy did the last person add?"

Hershel stared at the bowl of peppermint candies, turning the puzzle over in his mind. He counted the people in the house, then pouted, peering at the candy as though it were trying to hide a secret from him. Finally, he gave a sudden wicked little smile. With a chuckle, he reached out and gathered up the pieces of candy, shoving both fistfuls into his pockets. He grinned up at his future self.

"None, because the last person took them all instead!" he declared and winked with a laugh, "Every puzzle has an answer!" Layton laughed along, setting the boy back down.

"That they do, Hershel! Now run along and keep an eye out for Luke. The older one, I mean. And those candies are for later; don't spoil your appetite!" he called out as Hershel cheered and ran for the door, rushing out in an eager frenzy.

He darted past Young Luke, who walked slowly towards the office, a faintly distressed look on his face, and bounded towards the stairs in time to run into Sir Luke, who came in from being outside. The older boy blinked in surprise and chuckled as Hershel told him all about Layton's office and the lecture papers and the puzzle, showing him some of the peppermint candies he had 'won'. Luke praised his cleverness, but looked distracted before finally saying that he had something important to see to and that he would be in the dining room in just a bit. Confused but willing to trust in his teacher, Hershel headed off to see what it was that smelled so delicious. Maybe that girl was good for something after all!

"Professor? May I come in?" Young Luke called from the doorway of the office. Layton looked up from his papers again, eyebrow lifting in momentary confusion before he smiled warmly and gestured for his apprentice to enter. The boy walked in and plopped himself down in a chair near the desk, looking apprehensive as he fidgeted on the chair. Layton watched him for a moment, concern crossing his face as he stood up from his work.

"Luke? Is something the matter?" he asked softly, walking over to kneel before his apprentice and bring them eye to eye. The boy fidgeted again, then sighed and looked up at his mentor worriedly.

"Professor, what's going to happen to me when the orphanage decides that my apprenticeship is done?" he asked at last and fear crept into his eyes and voice, setting him to tremble in the chair, "Or what if they think that I'm not doing my best and decide to take me away from here? I don't want to leave you, Professor! You're like a father to me! What's in store for me in the future?"

He had begun crying by then, clutching himself as he trembled almost violently in his seat. Layton looked completely at a loss for what to do before gingerly placing both hands on the boy's shoulders.

"Luke. Luke! My boy, listen to me please!" he urged softly, firmly, "No one is taking you from me and your future should be just fine. The proof stands before us in this very house; Sir Luke looks like a capable young man and is as sharp as ever." His assistant slowed his sobbing, lifting his eyes from his hands to pay attention to the older gentleman through still falling tears.

"But he said... Penford said that you would know what would happen to me." Young Luke whimpered, rubbing the tears away with his sleeve before Layton offered him a handkerchief and he used that instead. He looked up at his mentor again, the worry still on his face. "Am I still good enough to be your apprentice? There's hardly any chance of me getting anywhere in the orphanage besides working in a factory." he sighed, lifting a hand limply, then dropping it, "They could always use more strong boys like me." Layton stared at him in horror before the expression melted away into a deep thoughtfulness, a more seriously pensive look the likes of which Young Luke had never seen before. "Puh-Professor?" the boy questioned softly, just a little frightened by the look.

"Mmm." Layton hummed softly, hand rising to curl before his mouth in consideration, eyes narrowing slightly as he stood and began pacing the room. He made a total of five circuits, all while Young Luke called out to him, before he finally stopped, a stunned look on his face as his hand pulled away from his mouth. "That's it...!" he whispered, "That's the answer!"

"Professor!" Young Luke shouted and the man gave another start, looking back at him with a sheepish smile.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Luke. My mind must have wandered." he remarked brightly and reached out to take him by the hand, "Come now. Dry those tears and leave me to solve the puzzle of your future. I assure you that you won't be leaving my side if I have any say in the matter!" He began walking towards the door, leading his apprentice along. "Now let's go and enjoy that wonderful dinner you made tonight! I'm sure everyone is waiting for us!"

And just outside the door, hurrying away with a sad smile on his face, Sir Luke gazed down at the Time-Binder in his hand, watching the minute hand finish its circuit and force itself and the hour hand to click down to the second hour.

"First Hour; complete." he whispered and silently rushed away to join Flora and Hershel at the table, putting on his best cheerful face for the dinner.


	18. Chapter 18

Luke stood before the Time Slipstream Device, the Time-Binder in his hand as his team of researchers stood back, instruments and clipboards in hand. Everything was set up and fine-tuned for this moment, waiting for the data that they would collect from this first test. This was one of the newest functions of the Time-Binder, and Luke had spent months developing it. He had his hopes that it would allow him to create a loophole in his own theoretic math to pass items larger than himself through the timestream. The mission he was going to undertake may need him to equip his rapier and it had too much mass to simply drag through the stream with him.

"Everyone set?" he called out to his team. The scientists all looked at him one by one, flashing him a thumb's-up when things cleared for them on their instruments. Luke took a deep breath and held the watch forward. "Time-Binder, run protocol Stream Summon!" he declared and the device in his hand began to glow, space rippling before him as it began to isolate a section from the rest of time. "Summon Gozo!"

The space-time isolation began to crackle with energy, rippling as the shape of the robotic dog began to emerge from a tear in the timeline. The research team began to cheer, and Luke smiled broadly... until the ripple suddenly pulsed violently and the dog uttered a mechanical shriek, spasming as the tendrils of time began tearing it to pieces. Luke froze in place, eyes wide, while the men and women panicked and began running around, trying to stabilize or shut down the tear.

"Get the Professor out of there!" someone yelled and Luke felt his arms being grabbed from behind, eyes still glued to the horrific scene before him as he was dragged away from the tear forcefully. "Shut down the tear! Before it breaks free and pulls him in!"

But Luke wasn't paying attention to any of the frenzy of activity now. All he could focus on was the image of his robotic pet being ripped to shreds in the timestream, and his mind's eye was sadistic enough to replace it with the image of Professor Layton. Imaginary hands reached out to him, horrified expression on his face and silent scream of agony calling out from the beyond; and Luke couldn't take it.

He screamed.

The door flew open and several figures rushed inside the bedroom as Luke bolted upright in bed, clutching the blankets tightly as he gasped for air, eyes wide and unfocused. Hershel darted for him, leaping onto the bed and grabbing his arm to shake him back to his senses. Young Luke headed for the lamps, switching them on one by one as Flora hurried off to get a pot of tea started, one of scarce few things she could prepare without destroying half the kitchen. Layton moved cautiously towards the bed, watching the young man carefully as Luke went on staring into the distance, gripping the blankets so tightly, his knuckles had turned white.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." the teen whispered softly, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, "I tried to do it. I worked so hard. I'm sorry." Hershel looked up at his older self fearfully, still tugging on his mentor's nightshirt to snap him out of the half-aware state. Layton gingerly sat himself down on the bed, watching Flora hurry back inside with the tea and Young Luke finished lighting the lamps, looking back at him with a worried expression. The Professor gave him a reassuring smile in thanks and told him, very softly, that he could go back to bed. He would handle the elder's nightmare. Flora poured out two cups of tea and handed them both to him, glancing at Luke worriedly, pink coloring her cheeks as she took in his bowed head and mussed hair.

"Thank you, my dear. Run along back to bed; I'll settle the matter and we can all rest more easily." Layton whispered and she nodded slowly, finding it hard to pull herself away. Young Luke helped with that, taking her by the hand and gently leading her out of the room. Hershel managed to squirm his way under Luke's arm, hugging him tightly as if to barricade him from whatever had frightened him so badly. Layton set the two cups down on the bedside table before attempting anything. "Luke? Can you hear me?" he asked softly and the young man's head jerked up, glazed eyes shooting to his face, the same horrified look in them.

"I'm sorry." he repeated and the Professor smiled genially at him.

"I accept your apology. You did very well in your work. You did your best and that is all anyone can ask of you. I'm very proud." he replied in a soft, soothing tone. Luke's trembling slowed and a hopeful expression began growing in place of the terror, tension easing away bit by bit so his hands weren't quite locked onto his blankets, but he still didn't release them either. "Would you like some tea? That may help ease the nerves. Does wonders for me and your younger self." Layton added softly, deliberately moving his hands to pick up the cups and watching from the corner of his eye as Luke kept his gaze on him, watching his every move as though afraid he'd vanish if he glanced away.

"You... always did like your tea..." the young man whispered, "Sometimes... I thought you had tea for blood... and you were a tea vampire... silly things like that..." Layton laughed, holding out one of the cups for Luke to take as Hershel glanced back and forth between them, content with where he was and refusing to budge for anything.

"Luke, you have such a vivid imagination!" the Professor remarked and the two of them sipped at their tea in the shaky silence. "Would you care to tell me about your nightmare? It may help put your mind at ease." Luke closed his eyes, his composure returning as the tea warmed him and relaxed his nerves and muscles.

"No. It was a dream of a memory. One that can't be told." he finally replied and looked up at his former mentor with clearer eyes, "Thank you for your concern, but I believe I'll be fine now. What time is it?" Layton looked around himself, then spotted the Time-Binder on the desk.

"Well, your watch is near. Mind if I checked from that?" he asked and Luke smirked, lifting a finger to wag at him.

"Hershel's penchant for getting in trouble is rubbing off on you. My watch doesn't tell time conventionally and it won't do for me to have you finding out what it does." he remarked smugly, "So no trying to sneak a peek at it!" The Professor lifted his hand in innocence, then tilted his head at the sound of a clock chime, silently counting until the tones ended. "Four in the morning, and you have a lecture today. I'm sorry." Luke sighed, running his fingertip along the edge of his cup, "You should head back to bed. I'll be all right." Layton gave him a dubious look but the young man finished his tea and set the cup aside, "Really, Professor! I'll be fine!"

"I'll keep watch!" Hershel piped in and buried his face sheepishly into his mentor's nightshirt, "I can't sleep, either, so..." Luke sighed, rolling his eyes as the Professor chuckled softly, getting up and running a hand through his own mussed hair.

"If you're absolutely certain..." he began and Luke nodded, patting his apprentice on the back as Hershel squirmed around to get himself under the blankets, "All right then. I'll see you both bright-eyed in a few hours." He looked faintly distant then, a vaguely worried look on his face, "I still have a lot of work to do, with this new situation." Luke simply nodded again, eyes flicking back to his pocket-watch as Layton bid him good night and left the room, switching off the lamps as he gave the room another circuit before exiting. He settled back in bed, grunting softly when Hershel took the chance to flop onto his young mentor and use his shoulder as a pillow.

"'Night." he yawned and dozed off. Luke sighed, wondering how he got himself into this mess just before fading back to sleep and letting those musings turn to wondering what it would be like to have Flora in Hershel's place. He had more pleasant dreams after that, bittersweet but still nice.

Morning was chaos.

"Professor! Get out of the bathroom! I haven't brushed my teeth yet and Flora's threatening to cook breakfast!"

"Hershel, get off of me! I know you want a hug, but I'm trying to get dressed! And stop trying to peel off your bandages! No, don't pull on mine either!"

"Eeks! There's a fire! Help!"

There was much stomping of feet as people raced up and down the stairs, in and out of various rooms to get ready. Getting ready for Professor Layton's lectures wasn't so much a frenzy as it was a scrambling of an inept army about to do battle. Young Luke raced into the kitchen with his toothbrush still in his mouth, fire extinguisher already shooting off to calm the flames. Professor Layton had retreated into his office with his razor, still barefoot and lacking his coat and hat, towel tied around his neck. Luke had pulled Hershel off and set him to helping out in the kitchen, which the young Layton translated to 'make sure your older self doesn't botch up his diet' and ate half the man's breakfast to cut down on his portion. Young Luke was not pleased.

So now Layton was stashed away in his office, clean-shaven but barefoot and unaware that he wouldn't be having black pudding for breakfast, Flora was already hurrying away to change dresses because of the food spatters from the fire breaking out, and Luke had to come downstairs, half-dressed and in a foul mood, to pry the boys apart before they tore into one another. When everything finally settled and Layton still hadn't come out of his office, Luke felt a terrible unease creep up his spine.

It had happened in the office.

Before anyone could protest, the young man picked up Layton's plate, set it on a tray, added the missing utensils and cup of tea, and began taking it to the hallowed ground that was Professor Layton's Office, swallowing hard. He drew close to the office door, noting it partially open, and let curiosity get the better of him. Carefully, he stood to the side of the doorway, peering in through the crack and listening attentively.

Layton was on the phone, sifting through documents on his desk as he sorted them into folders to pack into his briefcase while he balanced the receiver on his shoulder, holding it pressed to his ear and before his mouth. There was a slight frown on his face as he listened to the chatter on the other end. Apparently, he was waiting for an opening to speak.

"Madam, perhaps I've worded my query in a most unclear manner. I am not in need of a new apprentice; Luke is just fine and has even begun surpassing my current expectations." the Professor finally got a break, speaking firmly but cordially, "I was simply curious as to what the orphanage plans to do with him once his term of apprenticeship ends. If he is sent to a proper school in addition to what I am teaching him..." He frowned again, obviously interrupted. Luke lifted an eyebrow at the strange conversation. So this was what the first event led to? How curious.

"No, madam. My intent on this matter is quite solid. I'll be coming in this afternoon for a personal consultation and official inquiry." Layton managed to secure another opening, "I wish to secure his future. He has a great deal of potential and it would be a shame to see it disappear..."

Suddenly, it felt like all the warmth in the room and in his body had evaporated, leaving Luke with a frigid chill. Was that...? Was that the reason? Just that? Nothing more? Swallowing thickly, he left the office, hurrying back to the dining room with the tray still in his hands. What was this all for then? He set the tray down at the table and sat at his place, ignoring the questioning looks he received as he picked at his food. A heavy weight sat in his stomach and heart. He couldn't even bring himself to look at his former mentor as Layton finally entered the room, fully dressed, to sit with them for breakfast.

The trip to the university was fairly uneventful. If Hershel ignored who was driving, he could pretend he was being chauffeured around. London looked really different, too! So many buildings had changed and some had disappeared, even small stands and vendors had changed; Sir Luke really did take him through time to the future! He pressed his hands against the glass of the Laytonmobile, peering out at the world with wide eyes. Even the air seemed a little different, clearer and easier to breathe.

A moment more of studying the new streets of future London, and Hershel broke into a grin. There! Some things remained the same even after so much time passed. And if things remained unbroken in that little gang he ran with in his own time, then Hershel would have no troubles at all making new contacts. Sir Luke may have the watch and knowledge of the future to help him, but Hershel had the network of the Gutter Valley Boys and plenty of thief's skills on his side!

Speaking of Sir Luke... Hershel sat back and looked up at his mentor worriedly. The young man sat in the front seat next to Professor Layton, looking distinctly uncomfortable as the car went on its way. Something must have happened that morning to shake him up so badly. Every now and then, he would pull out his watch and peek at the time, but he only looked sadder and sadder each time he did. Hershel reached out to tug on his sleeve and Sir Luke looked back at him with a shadow of his usual smirk, but that was all. And the Flora girl would gently pull his arm back and tell him it wasn't polite to pull on people's clothes like that.

Soon enough they were at the university and Hershel's skin crawled nervously as he realized from the layout of the area that this big and grand-looking school was situated right next to the Historical Museum. What if his father saw him? Oh, he'd get such a switching! His hands reflexively went to shield his bottom and he clung closer to Sir Luke, whimpering softly. Luke looked slightly dazed, but snapped back into focus at the contact, glancing down at his apprentice first, then around himself to see what had spooked the young boy. And then he caught on as well and drifted closer to Layton to use as a shield, bending his head to avoid looking at anyone. Hershel spotted the subtle flicker on his older self's face, eyes quickly shifting to take note of the change before going back to looking up at the building casually as he continued leading his little troupe up the steps.

"If it's any consolation," he remarked suddenly, his tone a strangely neutral sound, "Professor Harold Layton is currently overseas in South America, a most stubborn man who insisted on leading the archaeological dig site in Brazil. Helena Layton went with him, to aid in solving the puzzle locks that were discovered there." Young Luke blinked in confusion as Flora sighed dreamily. Luke and Hershel relaxed at the news, though the elder boy took on a puzzled expression in how Layton spoke of them.

"'Ey! Who are they, Professor? They have the same name as you!" Young Luke questioned and Layton managed a smile, thin and tight.

"My parents. Luke, diction, please. I've not said anything before in hopes that you would correct yourself, but it seems as if that is one lesson that has slipped from your memory." he replied and the boy lifted a hand to his mouth in surprise.

"Oh! Sorry, Professor." he amended. Flora gazed heavenward with a blush as they entered the university and began making their way to the auditorium where the lecture was to take place.

"It must be so romantic, uncovering the secrets of the past with the one you love beside you, guiding you and supporting you!" she declared almost breathlessly, her eyes flickering just the slightest towards the young man clad in blue. Luke caught the look by grace of fortune and turned pinkish, pulling his hat down to try shadowing his flustered expression.

"I... well..." he stammered, and both Young Luke and Hershel scowled while Layton chuckled warmly, touching fingers to the brim of his hat to invite more good fortune. Flora squeaked slightly and quickly turned her face away, hand rising to cover her cheek's coloring.

Layton opened the door to the stage entrance of the auditorium, leading the children out to the stage itself. Several chairs had been set up behind the podium where he would be speaking, part of the conditions he requested to be met to allow his apprentice and charge to sit nearby in case he needed assistance. Today, he asked for two more seats to include the older Luke and young Hershel. Luke lifted an eyebrow as he watched Flora sit herself down neatly and giggle while Young Luke took a seat and Hershel ran about on the stage, completely enamored with the setting and intellectual air of the auditorium.

"Professor, this room isn't even filled yet." Luke remarked, gesturing to the steady stream of students coming in and taking their places, "If I recall correctly, your lecture won't start for another ten minutes at most. Will you just be standing here until then?"

"There are a few matters I need to take care of in the waiting room in back. I shouldn't be long and will start my lecture when I return." Layton told him with a smile, "In the meantime, may I bother you to look after the young ones in my place?" Luke gave a start at those words as the Professor began leaving.

"What? No, wait! I'm here to protect you only!" he blurted out and his hand rose to his mouth in shock. The older gentleman paused and looked back at him strangely. Luke shook his head, looking away and allowing the Professor to continue on his way. How could he have been so careless? Clicking his tongue in self-chiding, he decided to let it slide this once in favor of sitting down and thinking over what he learned, hands reaching for his notepad and pencil to take notes. Had he looked back just then, Luke would have taken notice of a shadowy figure stepping out of the depths of the auditorium equipment and props, silently following Layton to the waiting room.

The auditorium was nearly full now, with some students darting in quickly to find seats before it filled to capacity; with the popularity of Professor Layton's lectures, it wasn't uncommon to find some youths skive off from their own classes to sit in the center aisle and listen to him instead. Luke looked around again, then took stock of the situation. Hershel sat beside him, gazing up at the crowd in awe, clutching his little satchel in his hands. The young man still had yet to know what exactly he was carrying around in there that warranted it staying at his side constantly. Then he remembered the contents of his own bag and kept his thoughts to himself. On the other side of Hershel, Flora did a bit of needlework on a handkerchief, embroidering the Layton Family insignia into its corner. She hummed softly as she worked, eyes sparkling with happiness, which brought a faint blush to Luke's cheeks again. He swallowed and moved on to his younger self.

Young Luke sat in his chair, looking faintly despondent as he studied from a textbook in his lap. The leather satchel at his side was open, a few spools of colored thread peeking out from within it, scattered on an assortment of papers -home-school work-and puzzle books. Luke could faintly recall tension from the same point of time in his own past, thanks to the weakened Binder effect, and got up to see what was bothering his younger self. Hershel blinked at his movement, frowning slightly when he realized his mentor's attention was on the other boy, then huffed and went back to looking up at the crowd of people, scanning them over and mentally picking off which would be easy targets as if he was spotting for the rough boys.

"Something the matter?" Luke asked his younger self and Young Luke twitched before looking up from his book at him.

"Hmm? Eh, it's nothing. Besides, the Professor said he's got everything under control, so everything should be fine." the boy replied and looked around himself suddenly, a perplexed expression crossing his face, "Though, he should have been here by now. If he's gone to the waiting room and lost himself to another puzzle again, the headmaster will have a fit!" Luke felt himself go tense; this wasn't right. The Professor had left with his briefcase only, and only documents were inside it. If there had been a puzzle anywhere on him, he would have already had it in hand, mulling it over. And he looked distracted when he left, possibly still hung up on that phone conversation.

"I'm going to see to him. Stay here." Luke ordered swiftly and sternly, moving towards the back of the stage, "Hershel! Guard those two for me! It's very important!" The young Layton jerked in shock, staring after the retreating figure of his mentor before breaking into a wide smile. Sir Luke trusted him with a duty in his secret mission!

"Right, Sir Luke!" he called back and twisted in his chair, grinning at Young Luke and Flora, who both looked startled by the turn of events, "I'll keep you safe and Sir Luke will bring the old me back here safe and sound! You wait and see!" Young Luke sighed harshly, dropping his head on one hand as Flora giggled and hugged the boy.

"My hero!" she teased cheerfully.

"Bugger." Young Luke groused.

Layton stared dully into the mirror, phone pressed to his ear as he listened to the rambling on the other end. In attempts to clear up the earlier misunderstanding and assure the orphanage that he wasn't going to be sending Luke back or had an interest in taking in yet another ward, he gathered his wits and courage, and called the headmistress again. Not one of his best ideas. Between the chatter of his exploits and apologies for sending him 'an inept boy ill-fitted for a man of his stature', Layton was fairly certain that parts of his brain were attempting to estrange themselves from him to save intellectual capacity.

He covered the mouthpiece and uttered a long-suffering sigh, followed by a yawn, as the door to the waiting room opened very slowly and quietly. Ah! A pause for her to take a breath!

"Madam, I am not interested in releasing Luke from the apprenticeship early, nor am I requesting the acquisition of another apprentice. I have two charges in my household and I'm quite happy with them." Layton cut in smoothly, rubbing his temple with his fingertips in attempts to ward off a coming headache. Was it due to this woman, or was Hershel doing something un-Layton-like that was encroaching on his own mental processes? "The inquiry was about the process of..." And the headmistress caught her breath, running off on a new tangent that had Layton drop his head against the desk with a low groan. Very ungentlemanly of him, yes, but it felt oddly refreshing to follow Luke's example of dealing with troublesome situations. Another minute of listening to the blithering woman and the Professor sat back up, running fingers through his hair to straighten it and look for a clock. He still had a lecture to get to, and he couldn't be late for that.

Danger!

A sharp chill ran through his body and Layton focused intently on the mirror, mouth opening in shock. In a split second, he dropped the phone, lunging to the side, only to run right into the hand that wielded the chloroform-soaked handkerchief. He choked on the fumes, struggling to break free and knocking both himself and his attacker against the vanity he'd been sitting at, sending the telephone crashing to the floor. The tinny sound of a woman screaming in alarm came through the receiver. There wasn't anything else she could have done; the whole thing was over before she could stop to catch her breath again. Layton slumped against the carpet, sprawled there carelessly as the dark figure bent over him grinned widely, reaching out to pick up the phone and carefully place it back on its cradle, ending the call.

Luke halted at the end of the stage once he saw the Professor step out of the waiting room with his briefcase in hand, a smile on his face. Breathing a sigh of relief, he waved at his former mentor and called out to him. Layton turned to look at him in surprise and Luke chuckled a bit at the expression.

"Come on, Professor. Wouldn't want you to get in trouble again." he remarked and turned back around, walking back to the stage to take his seat. He really shouldn't let his paranoia get to him so early. The Time-Binder hadn't sounded its alarm and since he was making sure that all historical events were to go as closely to the original as possible, then it would be up in the range of impossible for anything to happen to the Professor thisearly.

He arrived on the stage, gesturing to Hershel and the others to relax as he took his seat by them. A few moments later, the Professor walked out onto the stage, greeted by applause as he made his way to the podium. The smile remained on his face, growing slightly wider as he touched fingers to the brim of his silk hat. He took his place at the podium and brought out a leaf of paper from within his coat, setting it on the stand before him, then cleared his throat to speak.

Luke's nose twitched as something tickled it. Young Luke sat up, a strangely concerned look on his face as he sniffed delicately at the air. He looked over at the rest of them with the same expression.

"Do you smell that?" he asked softly and Flora flushed.

"I thought a little potpourri wouldn't be any harm..." she whispered in embarrassment, hand lifting to her face to hide her blush. Hershel sniffed at the air himself, crinkling his nose.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the archaeological interest!" Layton began speaking, his voice carrying through the room so everyone could hear him clearly, "I'm glad you could make it to this get-together!" The students looked at each other in confusion, whispering to one another on this odd introduction.

"That sounds wrong." Luke muttered suspiciously as Flora looked up at him curiously. Hershel and Young Luke continued sniffing at the air, both slipping from their seats to follow the scent until they got a stronger dose.

"I would like to say that it is an honor to speak to such promising young pupils," Professor Layton went on with a snide grin, "but that would be lying, and a gentleman doesn't lie." The crowd's murmurs turned to angry protests, some bursting into tears at the harsh words coming from the normally peaceful and benevolent professor. "Why waste time with blithering layabouts like you when I, the greatProfessor Layton, am more suited to treasure-hunting around the world?"

Young Luke and Hershel suddenly jerked their heads back as Luke leaped from his seat with a shout of alarm.

"Smoke!" the two boys shouted and Young Luke dove at the older man's back, grabbing on and yelling in a fury.

"Don Paolo! I know it's you! Stop impersonating the Professor!" he yelled, struggling with the disguised scientist and quickly joined by Luke as he grabbed for the man's mask, pulling it free and knocking the top hat off.

"You brats! I should've gassed the lot of you as well!" Don Paolo growled and shoved Luke aside before throwing the younger boy to the floor. Hershel dug into his satchel and pulled out one of the tools he carried as part of the Gutter Valley Boys, a simple little slingshot made of wood and rubber. Now for the ammunition...

The class rose in an uproar, some students scrambling to escape the auditorium and get help or call the constables. On the stage, Luke rolled with the push, darting back to his feet and lunging for the scientist, an infuriated yell issuing from his mouth. Young Luke grabbed the fallen hat, eyes wide.

"Where's Professor Layton?" he cried out.

Don Paolo moved fast, dodging Luke's attempted grapple and heading straight for Flora with a grin and laugh. The girl screamed in fright, lifting her hands in a futile attempt to shield herself.

"All the treasures Layton holds shall be mine!" the scientist declared, ready to grab her and run... when a peppermint candy hit him square in the forehead. Thrown off balance by the sudden attack, Don Paolo halted and looked around himself before locking eyes with Hershel, who stood on a chair next to Flora, slingshot reloaded and aimed directly at him.

"Back off, old geezer!" the boy growled, "Or the next one pops an eye out 'fore you can say 'Bob's your uncle'!" Don Paolo glared around quickly to take another gander at his situation, then decided it was a loss. He bolted for the exit, still laughing as he snatched up the briefcase in one hand along the way.

"I'll get him! You and Flora find Professor Layton!" Luke shouted at his younger self, racing after the scientist, "Make sure he's okay!" Hershel leaped off the chair, dashing after his mentor to help him as well. Luke noticed and growled. "Hershel! Get out of here; it's too dangerous!" he snapped at the boy and Hershel only grinned, firing a candy at the escaping man's hand. Don Paolo yelped in pain, releasing the briefcase as a reaction.

"You forget who I am!" the young Layton declared as they burst through the exit into the daylight, "Hawk-Eye doesn't back down!"

Don Paolo hurried across the pavement, shedding the brown cloak he had used in his disguise as he fled. Luke and Hershel were quickly gaining on him, being younger and more in shape than himself. He glared over his shoulder at them, curiosity over who exactly they were swept away by the sheer fury of being foiled once again in his plans to disgrace Layton and claim the treasures he kept. If something didn't slow the brats down, he'd be hard-pressed to escape and try again later.

A sudden sound cut through the air, a thwip that sounded faintly familiar to a pair of ears on the hunt, and Luke cried out in shock as a sturdy rope weighted down with iron spheres cut through the air and spun around him, tying him up neatly in a horrifying repeat of that night at the fountain. He stumbled and fell to the ground, grunting as he struggled to get loose. Hershel let out a cry at seeing his mentor fall, then reacted quickly at the sound of a second thwip of rope and metal. Bringing his arms forward, Hershel crossed them and twisted his arms slightly, bracing for the impact that rightfully came, snarling him up just like his mentor and throwing his little body roughly against the pavement.

"Hershel!" Luke cried in alarm, struggling harder now to get free so as to check on him. Don Paolo paused, startled by the shift in luck, but wisely chose not to dally too long. He did indulge in a final promise of vengeance as he disappeared into the darkness of the alleys of London.

"This isn't the last you've faced me, Layton! I will destroy you!"

"Nutter." Hershel remarked with a wince from where he lay, carefully moving his arms as Luke wriggled closer to him, "Is he related to that crazy old geezer that followed you back at the Layton Manor?" Luke opened his mouth to explain, then remained speechless in wonder as the ropes binding Hershel went slack and the boy easily slipped them off, rubbing his arms where they had crossed. He noticed the stare and smiled. "Old trick in the Gutter Valley Boys gang. Makes your body slightly bigger if you turn your arms just right, so rope conforms to the bigger shape and gives you slack for your real size." he explained and began untying his mentor. The rope soon fell away under his deft fingers and Luke scrambled to his feet.

"Thank you. That man was an enemy of the Professor. Come on; we have to see if he's okay!" he declared and raced back to the auditorium with Hershel right behind him.

By the time they returned to the stage, the crowd was sitting again, waiting to give their statements to the constable, a university dean and a member of the School Security Board. Additional professors were helping calm the students and blocked off others from entering or leaving the auditorium. Flora and Young Luke were also on the stage, being looked after by a pair of nurses who draped blankets over them and gave them tea. A mat had been laid out on the stage and Luke halted in alarm as he spotted Layton lying on that mat, head being held up by the campus physician wafting a small bottle under his nose.

"Professor!" he cried, bolting to his side in a flash. Another nurse tried to pull him back, but he waved her off, turning to the physician instead. "Is he all right? He's not injured, is he?" he asked quickly. What had happened? He had remembered this day from his own personal past and this event never took place! What caused the change in the timeline?

"The esteemed Professor should be just fine. He was found unconscious in the waiting room, stripped of his cloak and hat, but otherwise unharmed." the physician returned evenly, continuing to administer the smelling salts, "We found a cloth dipped in chloroform beside him and evidence of a struggle. There are a few small bruises on his arms, but they've been tended to already. We just need him awake now."

Layton suddenly jerked, gasping as his eyes fluttered open and his hand reflexively swept the bottle from his face, sluggishly renewing his struggles. The nurses swooped in to calm him down, Luke aiding by pinning him down by one shoulder.

"Professor Layton, calm down! We are the staff of the medical ward!" the physician told him sternly. Layton turned to focus on him, stilling himself in confusion.

"Medical... staff?" he echoed thickly and lifted a hand to his head with a slight grimace as the nurses backed away to give him air, "My apologies... It's... a bit of a blur." He sat up carefully, coughing as Young Luke hurried to his side and sat by him, offering his mentor the tea that had been given to him. "Oh... thank you, Luke." Layton murmured, accepting the cup and sipping at it, wincing at the overly sweet taste he wasn't used to having. But the sugar would help him stabilize so he drank it anyway. Flora joined him a moment later, using the newly embroidered handkerchief to dab at his forehead.

"Sir Luke?" Hershel called out softly and Luke pulled himself from the scene to search out his own apprentice. The boy was standing by the podium, Layton's cloak balled under one arm and the briefcase in his other hand, looking as though it had been dragged behind him. "I got these back from where they were left behind." Hershel added and opened the cloak, dumping the ropes and weights that had been used on them, "These too. Is that creepy old man helping the creepy guy with the mask?" Luke bent to collect the ropes and spotted the discarded Layton mask that he had ripped from Don Paolo. Without quite knowing why, he picked it up and put it into his satchel along with the ropes.

"I don't think they're working together, Hershel." Luke finally whispered, "Don Paolo looked too startled by what happened to us; I don't think he knows someone was helping him escape." He shouldered the satchel, then picked up the cloak and briefcase. "Come on. Let's see how the Professor's doing now." he added and headed back. Hershel sighed and put his hands behind his head, walking along behind him.

"I would recommend taking him in to the infirmary for observation, or perhaps a hospital for more adequate care. Are you certain you can do this?" the physician questioned worriedly, watching the children climb into the back of the car as the nurses helped the fully dressed Layton into the passenger seat. Luke smiled confidently, waving the question away.

"Really, we'll be fine. He just needs rest and a strong cup of tea that isn't loaded with sugar." he replied coolly, "And I can drive the car just fine. We're sorry about the lecture, though. Perhaps another day?" The physician sighed helplessly, shrugging as he spread his hands.

"Reschedule through the headmaster's secretary. I'm only worried about the Professor's health." he replied, "It's unfortunate that he won't press charges, but since the brute that accosted him escaped, nothing more can be done."

Final goodbyes were exchanged as Luke bowed politely and stepped into the driver's seat of the Laytonmobile. The Professor glanced over at him, a worried expression on his face as the young man prepared himself for driving them all home. Luke gave him another confident grin and Layton groaned under his breath, dreading the day Young Luke learned to drive. But it was all well and good as Luke had the car under control.

"So, I didn't get on your nerves when teaching you?" the Professor asked quietly, eyes closing as he rested in his seat and tilting his hat down to shade his face. Luke gripped the steering wheel tightly.

"No, Professor. Didn't grate on me at all." he replied with forced easiness. He glanced into the rear-view mirror, frowning as the two boys looked like they were trying to pick a fight with each other again, poor Flora looking worn and nervous. "What are you twerps doing?" he growled, eye twitching in annoyance. The boys in back huffed, glaring at each other.

"He's insulting the Professor, is what he's doing!" Young Luke proclaimed indignantly and Hershel stuck his tongue out at him before looking up at his mentor.

"All I said was that the old man wouldn't have gotten jumped like some bubble-headed twit if he practiced more what the boys taught me!" he protested and sat back, arms folded over his chest, "Blimey! If I grow to be him, I'd rather not be a Layton!"

"Hershel!"

The boy flinched slightly at the warning tone in his mentor's voice but kept up his defiant posture. Layton sighed and shook his head, waving a hand to dismiss the subject.

"Leave the boy be." he murmured, "I have a dreadful headache and it looks as if I'll be missing my afternoon appointment." Luke glanced aside at him, concern etching onto his face as the Professor pulled his cloak more closely around himself and looked away. "...just don't know what to do..." he murmured too softly to be completely heard. The young man watched him for a moment more, then flicked out his watch to take a look at it. Not even a quarter of the way around the face; the second hour was taking longer than originally calculated. A dull ache spread across his forehead as the new memories sifted in to settle down by his original ones, both fuzzy and faint as the protection of the Binder effect worked as best it could.

The Laytonmobile continued its little journey in silence.

Elsewhere, a man clad in a showy violet cloak continued to tinker with his latest acquisition, grumbling and grousing as he manipulated the controls that automated the upkeep of his new dirigible.

"Blasted brats! And I was so close, too! Just a few minutes and that entire class would have been convinced that Layton was a fraud!" Don Paolo growled, chewing on the end of a cigar that was clenched between his teeth. He hadn't even bothered to light it, gnashing on it was strangely therapeutic. "And those two other brats! Who the dickens were they? Never seen them hanging around Layton before... He better not have gotten new apprentices!" he went on fuming. The plan had been so masterfully thought up, in his honest opinion. He was a master at using disguises and altering his voice was easy to do with the little devices hidden in each mask. He had fooled Layton for a few days with one, so why not a crowd of people for a few minutes?

But then those brats found him out somehow and ruined it all! He didn't even get a chance at taking the Golden Apple, far less whatever papers were inside Layton's briefcase. Ah well; at least he had the pleasure of personally taking Layton out of commission, if only for a short while.

"I'd like to put him out for much longer." he mused aloud, mentally cursing that he hadn't thought of it sooner as a figure stepped out of the shadows to stand behind him.

"How would you like to put him to pasture permanently?" the newcomer purred, reaching out with a gloved hand and making a grasping motion as Don Paolo jumped and spun around to stare and sputter at him, "And in one fell swoop make the entire Layton estate yours to do with as you desire?"

"Who are you? How did you get into my lair?" Don Paolo demanded to know and the elderly stranger huffed, tapping the end of a walking cane against the floor.

"Don't you know a good opportunity when it comes up to you?" he griped back and grinned cruelly, "I've come to offer you the greatest one of all. A plan that will enable you to destroy Layton once and for all!" Don Paolo huffed, folding his arms over his chest as he leered at the stranger.

"Every good fortune comes with a string attached. What's yours?" he growled. The other man laughed, waving a hand in dismissal.

"The satisfaction that Professor Layton will be grovelling at my feet before the end! That is all I'm after." he declared and Don Paolo scratched at his goatee, eyeing the other man carefully, suspiciously, before relaxing a tiny bit.

"Say I trust in this little venture of yours." he finally decided, "What do you have in mind for destroying the Layton name and gaining me all his treasures?" The older man grinned again, reaching into his coat to withdraw something wrapped in cloth, then tossing it to him. Don Paolo caught the small bundle and unwrapped it, blinking at a silvery dagger sheathed in a leather scabbard bearing the Layton Family insignia. He looked up at the other man in confusion as the stranger lifted a golden pocket-watch bearing faint rust-red stains smeared over it.

"Leave it in the hands of fate. Our goals will come to fruition in due time." he purred darkly and his mad laughter filled the hidden lair, rising above the sounds of machinery working on the dirigible.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A/N: this chapter is highly faved among those of the LJ community, for reasons I am still trying to understand. How can they describe the verbal duel as 'hot'? -shrugs- I leave it to you to judge for yourself if I wrote something like that. It took me a heck of a while to put together the argument, with all the double meanings and hidden messages and what not. Have at!"

"Flora, my dear, I'm quite all right now. I really have to do some work in the office and..."

"Not another word, Professor! You went through a horrible ordeal and you need to rest! Sir Luke said so in the car." Flora declared, letting her ladylike training slip for just a moment out of her worry for the gentleman she was determined to have go through recovery. Layton gave her a faintly dismayed expression and she shook her head. "You have to stay in bed! At least until it is time for dinner." With that, she smiled winningly. "I'll be in the living room, embroidering a handkerchief for Sir Luke. If you need anything, just ring the bell." she added and hurried off with a giggle. The Professor sighed, rubbing his temples as he gave the little brass bell on his bedside dresser a glance.

He wasn't an invalid, and one little scuffle where he didn't emerge the victor didn't mean he was on his deathbed. It was quite embarrassing to be forced into bed by a young lady and his own apprentice, and the time-traveling Luke had gone straight to his closet and pulled his bedclothes out, setting them out and remarking that if he didn't change into them within the ten minutes he had everyone out of the room, he would kick gentlemanly duty to the street and dress the man himself. Layton finished in half the time.

How was he expected to 'rest', anyway? There was far too much going on that needed to be attended to and there was no way Layton was just going to sit in bed while precious time slipped through his fingers and made his plan all the harder to accomplish. If he could just get into his office, he'd be able to focus, but Layton would have to contend with the children downstairs. If a single one of them saw him moving around, they'd get Flora's attention and he wouldn't be able to protest for very long against her mothering. No, the second Flora laid eyes on him outside the comforts of his own master bedroom, he would be tossed right back in again.

He would need a distraction, one that would tie up all of his guests in a room other than the living room. Layton glanced over at the bell again... and smiled.

In the living room, Flora set up her spools of thread beside her on the sofa and reclined against the cushions with a sigh and a smile. Now she could get to work on her present to the dashing young time-traveler. Blue thread, gold thread, black thread; they would make a fine insignia together. She set to her task quickly and easily, her fingers deftly moving the colored threads into the corner of the handkerchief. His newsboy's cap would be the base and she would use the gold to monogram the first letter of his name into the cap.

As she worked, Flora would occasionally look up to watch the boys at the table nearby her. Young Luke and Hershel were working on puzzles from a book, a rare time of peace between them. They'd been fighting again earlier, with the blue-clad boy pinning Hershel to the floor and mussing up his hair violently. Sir Luke heard from the kitchen, stormed in, and pulled the two apart, scolding them both for their behavior before giving them his book of puzzles to occupy their minds. After that, he headed for the kitchen again, and the sound of another door closing told Flora he'd gone outside to the rear garden.

So good with children.

Flora flushed and looked around quickly, as if afraid someone had heard her thoughts, then resumed working on the stitched cap. She left room for the monogram, a duplicate of the 'L' she had used on the Professor's own handkerchief. After all, she reasoned, the young man's name was Luke as well, and she couldn't very well ask for his family name so suddenly. It would be rude, considering he was an orphan. Besides, it would be nice if he had the same monogram as the Professor; it would be something else to link them together. She smiled brightly and went on stitching.

The bell rang out suddenly and Flora jumped a little in surprise, barely avoiding nicking herself with the needle. She set everything down carefully, then hurried up the stairs to tend to the Professor. That poor man; what an awful thing that Don Paolo person did to him in the university!

She opened the door to his room and peeked in carefully, spotting the gentleman still sitting in bed with a warm smile on his face. Matching his smile, she hurried in and stood by the bed.

"Yes, sir? Is there something you'd like?" she asked and her guardian set the bell down on the dresser carefully.

"Actually, I was hoping for a spot of tea and perhaps a bowl of soup to ease my nerves and help me rest. Would you be so kind as to prepare them for me?" he asked politely and Flora lit up. He was asking her to cook for him! How rare and wonderful!

"Oh, yes! I'll have it done right away!" she exclaimed and hurried away, eager to get to the kitchen and start making soup.

Down the stairs and through the living room, Flora dashed swiftly for the kitchen, alarming the two boys at the table with her speed and destination.

"Blimey! Did she just-?" Young Luke asked of his 'companion' in shock. Hershel stared wide-eyed back at him.

"Go into the kitchen? I believe so." he replied and Young Luke uttered a yelp of horror before racing in after her, yelling for her not to touch anything. Hershel followed after him to see what was going on and if anything could be used as blackmail for later entertainment.

And all the while, Layton had pulled on his house slippers and was quickly moving down from his room to the office, wincing at the thought of having to tell a little lie to escape his 'nurse' and move on to more pressing matters.

Luke stood outside the house, listening to the chaos inside as his younger self attempted to get Flora out of the kitchen before she set something else on fire. He managed a sad smile at the memory of having done that himself so many times before, then drew himself up and set to focusing on his tasks.

First, his notepad's behavior. Several more pages had gone blank, while several more from the beginning of the book returned with the same double handwriting, pencil lead scrawled together that made it nearly impossible to tell what was written there. The same little blurs from where tears had long dropped were still there, and so were the little dog ears from having gone over them again and again to remind himself of exactly why he was struggling in Germany's schools. What was causing this strange reaction to his own personal history? Was it something that was happening in this timeline and if so, why didn't it start until sometime after he was trapped in the far past? Don Paolo of the future must be somehow responsible; he knew about his notepad changing.

Which brought him to another puzzle... What was Don Paolo trying to do? Not just the one in the future, but the one of the current time as well. Both of them weren't acting normally when it came to attacks on Professor Layton. Their usual modus operandi was to sneak into a situation under disguise, have an escape route already planned out, and if all else fails, have something large and mechanical with spikes keep him safe while he blasted his way out. But in both of these attacks, the one on himself and the one on the Professor, Don Paolo had set himself up in a dangerous situation that almost guaranteed failure. Why?

The noise inside the house got worse and Luke sighed, lifting fingers to his temples to rub away the rising headache. How was he supposed to solve these mysteries and prevent Professor Layton's murder when he couldn't think straight?

"Hey! Keep it down in there!" he finally yelled and spun around to stomp inside and settle the whole racket, "How's a gent supposed to solve a single puzzle when there's this-?" He halted in mid-step, gaping at the mess in the kitchen as Flora gasped at the sight of him and dropped the bowl of water in her hands, splashing it everywhere and shattering the ceramic. Hershel gagged, clawing at his neck as he stared helplessly up at his mentor, a cup of something thick and discolored sitting on the table before him. Young Luke had his arms wrapped around the icebox protectively, trying to shield it from the girl.

"Oh! Sir Luke!" Flora exclaimed in surprise and began to move towards him, freezing in place when he lifted a hand in silent command for her to stay right where she was, a grim look on his face.

"Don't move." he ordered and moved swiftly to Hershel's side, "What is this?" The teen didn't wait for an answer, just hoisted up the boy and carried him to the basin, running the faucet and handing the boy a glass of water. "Drink this. If you get sick, bend over the basin." Luke told him softly and Hershel nodded, grabbing the glass and guzzling down its contents as fast as possible. From there, the young man headed for his younger self and bodily pulled him from the icebox.

"Hey! Lay off!" Young Luke yelled, kicking and struggling until he was set down on a nearby counter. With both boys out of the way, Luke stepped quickly but carefully to Flora, avoiding stepping on ceramic shards as best he could. He swallowed hard, trying not to stammer or turn red in her presence.

"I'm going to have to carry you out of this mess. Is that all right with you, Flora?" he asked softly. Her eyes went huge and round, more adorable than usual as a pink flush spread across her cheeks. She squeaked, her hands clasped over her heart tightly, but she nodded and shut her eyes as Luke scooped her up in bridal fashion, stepping over broken bits of the bowl to set her safely down outside the kitchen. Hoping his face wasn't as red as hers, Luke headed back into the kitchen in time to see his younger self jump down from the counter and head for a mop.

"Penford's got cooties!" he declared as Hershel finally got his voice back after chugging down several glasses of water. The smaller boy turned with a glare.

"Does not! Take that back!" Hershel yelled, then paused and looked at his mentor, "Wait, your name is Penford?" Luke sighed, walking up to pick him off the counter by the basin.

"Luke Penford is the name I usually go by." the young man remarked briskly, "Now, are you feeling better? What were you choking on?"

"That vile sewer water the Flora girl dared to call soup." Hershel growled as he gripped onto Luke's clothing for stability, shooting a furious glare in the general direction of the girl, "I swear she's trying to kill us all!" Young Luke began mopping up the spilled water, planning to sweep afterward. He caught Hershel's words and rolled his eyes.

"She's not trying to kill us, you ninny; she just can't cook very well." the boy remarked, "After her first disaster with making dinner for me and the Professor, we learned not to let her do anything more than make tea and sandwiches. What on earth got into the Professor's head to have her come and make him soup, I have no idea." Luke halted at that, turning to stare at his younger self as Hershel yawned sleepily in his arms.

"The Professor asked her to cook?" he echoed and Young Luke nodded. Hershel snorted suddenly, laughing as he buried his face into Luke's jacket.

"Oh, oh! I get it now! So he's not a lost cause after all!" he giggled and turned his head to smile up at his mentor, "You guys fell for it! That Flora girl was a decoy!" Flora stuck her head in the kitchen at that remark, cheeks puffed indignantly.

"I am not! I was raised to be a proper lady so I may find a good husband!" she scolded and Luke felt just the slightest bit of dizziness at the mental image of Flora in a bride's gown. Young Luke set aside the mop and waved his hands for peace.

"No, no! A decoy is a distraction, something that draws our attention away from something else." he explained and his eyes widened, "Blimey! The Professor was distracting us! Why?" Luke gripped the laughing boy in his arms, mind suddenly clear with that realization.

"To get out of his room while we're all busy here. Flora! Go check his bedroom! Luke, check the office; I'll take a look outside and see if he's decided to skip out on us in the Laytonmobile." he ordered quickly, rushing for the living room to set Hershel down on the sofa, "Hershel, stay right here and keep an eye out. If the Professor moves anywhere in the house, he will have to come in through here first." The young Layton scoffed, waving him off.

"I know how to do my job. You're talking to Hawk-Eye, remember?" he declared and settled down, eyes scanning the room quickly before he pulled the brim of his hat down to shield his gaze and provide him with the illusion of being asleep. Flora rushed up the stairs as Luke ran for the door, dashing outside and calling the Professor's name. Young Luke headed straight for the office door and tried to open it to take a look.

It was locked.

Layton studied the slew of documents and legal text before him. Several had his signature already on them, official notices that had been sent to him on occasion for personal consideration that he looked over politely but always declined because he saw no reason for them. Now he needed them, badly, and he perused what little he had of his legal textbooks -obtained purely for the reason that he was sometimes called away to solve a puzzle in a crime and needed knowledge where the law was concerned- in efforts to make his case as tight as possible.

Though his name was almost a guarantee that he would have his offer accepted, the 'almost' unnerved him slightly and he never took easily to having services catered to him simply because of his family name. A name that, if he played his cards properly, would no longer be only his to bear. No, he was going to go into this as though the system would put him through the same scrutiny as any other potential client. He would fight, if need be, to secure Luke's future.

In the same vein of thought as Luke's future being entangled with the present and past, it occurred to him that his brief state of unconsciousness in the university had allowed Hershel's memories to filter into himself with more clarity than before, and Layton could recall a question his young self asked that shocked him cold.

"Is he related to that crazy old geezer that followed you back at the Layton Manor?"

Layton gasped softly, hand lifting to his mouth. He did remember that, faintly of course. Someone who looked a lot like Don Paolo stalking Luke, at the restaurant, at the manor, at the park. Everywhere Luke had gone, that old man was there, watching hungrily. It sickened him then and it still did so. But, why would he be...?

"Wait..." the Professor murmured and his hand curled thoughtfully, "Don Paolo knows Luke to be my apprentice. However, the focus of his motions against me have always been to target me alone; anyone else is simply caught in the crossfire, so to speak. So why would this man, who must be a future version of this time's Don Paolo as Sir Luke is future to this time's Luke, suddenly change his attention from me to him?"

For surely Don Paolo would be having quite a time in the future, attempting to discredit Layton every chance he got with Luke off in the past. Why would he stalk after Luke instead? Unless...

He jumped slightly at the knocking on his office door, eyes widening as he realized he'd been found out. Hastily, he collected his papers to put into folders for storage, when his eyes fell upon one of the documents he'd signed and his mouth opened in shock and suspicion. Could it be that this was the reason why Don Paolo had shifted his attentions?

Layton put the sheets away and straightened himself up as best he could, glancing around himself to be sure everything was in place... and letting out a sudden startled shout at the figure standing outside his office window. The knocking at his door became a frantic banging almost immediately, his apprentice crying out his title in a panic as Layton braced himself against his desk, hand over his heart as he scowled at Sir Luke standing outside and peering in at him with a disapproving frown. Then he darted aside, eyes never leaving his face, and vanished from view.

"My word, but that boy moves fast."

"It won't open! He's got it locked good and tight!" Young Luke cried as he struggled fiercely with the doorknob. Hershel sighed in exasperation from his seat on the couch, reaching into his satchel to pull a small pouch out, and then walked up to them.

"Oh, step aside and let a professional do this." he muttered and Young Luke jumped away from the door to berate him until Flora laid a hand on his shoulder to quiet him. She had come racing back down to the ground floor when she peeked into Layton's bedroom and found him missing, staying with the boys until Sir Luke returned. Now they both watched with surprise and curiosity as Hershel peered into the keyhole of the office door with a practiced eye, then opened his little pouch to reveal a set of small metal picks, one of which he picked out with a smile. "Ah, this should do it." he murmured and inserted it into the lock, jiggling away at it.

"Hershel Layton, I can hear you attempting to break into my office. My word of advice to you on accomplishing this venture; don't." the Professor's voice came through the door in a highly displeased tone and Hershel yelped, pulling the lock-pick out and stashing his tools in a blur of movement. There was an odd click on the other side of the door, and Young Luke groaned out an 'Oh no' as a small brass square that had been situated above the keyhole dropped down to cover it, jutting out at them about an inch or so.

"Goodness, but what an odd little thing." Flora breathed in surprise, blinking rapidly as she studied the little brass box. Hershel tilted his head at it in confusion, then looked to the other boy for an explanation. Young Luke sighed harshly, pulling a hand over his face.

"It's a puzzle lock. He got the idea from the tower in St. Mystere and now he uses it on his office door sometimes." he told them bluntly, "That box holds a tough puzzle that you have to solve in order to open the keyhole to unlock the door. The Professor changes the puzzle randomly, so who knows what it could be at any time!" He reached out to open the box, clicking on a button at its top to let the lid swing down and reveal the contents, then scowled at what he spotted. "Oh, bugger! Royal Escape; this puzzle is cruel and unusual punishment, Professor!" he declared loudly as a shadow crept over the trio at the door.

"Then let me handle it." Luke muttered darkly and the group looked up at him in surprise before parting to let him access the puzzle. The teen knelt before it, studying the layout of blocks and the single engraved square that represented the trapped 'princess' before lifting a finger and placing it on the puzzle. "Here goes." he whispered and began moving the blocks around, sliding them one way and another as he began unraveling the puzzle lock. Numerous clicks went by as he worked, the children silent as they watched him, knowing the slightest sound could ruin his focus.

Finally, the princess block passed through the exit gate and the puzzle came loose, popping out of the box and revealing the keyhole. The door clicked again and Luke looked up in surprise as it opened to reveal Professor Layton standing there with a frown, dressed in his bedclothes and his trademark hat sitting on his head as always. Behind Luke, the children squeaked and scattered, rushing to escape whatever unpleasant task Layton would surely put upon them in irritation and leaving Luke there to take all the blame.

He felt like crying now.

"We have a few matters to discuss." Layton told him firmly, "Step into my office, if you please." Luke cringed slightly but stood and swallowed hard, mentally preparing himself for another of those famed lectures that always left him feeling raw. He would have preferred a good switching. Maybe Layton's way with words was something he learned from his father? That would probably explain that odd frostiness that crept into his voice when he had talked about Harold Layton earlier that day.

"Here goes." Luke thought to himself and entered the Professor's office, trying not to imagine the closing of the door as the clank of a prison door... and failing miserably at it.

They sat facing one another over the desk; Layton sitting in his chair comfortably and with ease, while Luke reclined almost carelessly in his own seat, a tiny smirk on his face as he waited in silence. A pair of reading glasses rested unfolded on the desk, and Luke gave it a glance, his smirk widening a tiny bit. Layton had been using them, which meant he was reading something, most probably papers that dealt with the orphanage. So now he had an idea of what the discussion was about, which meant he could prepare the appropriate barriers and traps to get information out of Layton without giving himself away.

Layton, on the other hand, had been watching for Luke's reaction to the bait on the desk, smiling internally at the subtle shift in the teen's expression and knowing look in his eyes. So, he did have knowledge on the process he was undertaking, which meant that his suspicions could be proven right or wrong by the information he got out of Luke. Carefully, he sorted through his mental traps and shields, readying to move in and start solving this puzzle.

"You must be feeling better, sending Flora out to distract us while you locked yourself up in here. How are your arms?" Luke asked lightly, tilting his head almost catlike as Layton fingered his sleeves absently.

"Quite well, actually. I'm surprised that you bothered with tending to us all, considering how cold you were apt to be in my childhood." the Professor replied smoothly, resting his chin on one hand, "It's a bit amusing to see you following along beside me as eagerly as your young self, yet try to remain so aloof." He glanced aside for a moment, smiling, "Almost like you're shadowing me without truly interfering with my schedule." Luke shrugged one shoulder, his interest going to the cleanliness of his nails.

"Just curious as to your precise movements for this period of time. Especially since there's the rustle of legal issues in the air." he countered, "You would know a few things here and there about legal puzzles, right, Professor?" Layton spread his hands innocently before himself.

"I dabble in many things, Luke, but my specialties have always been archaeology and puzzles. Surely you haven't forgotten that about me?" he asked simply and Luke's eyes narrowed slightly.

"No... I haven't. But then, I'm not my father's son in the same sense you are yours." he returned with a small bite, realizing all too late that he fell for a trick of emotions. Layton masked his face with a stoic expression, the same frosty air as before surrounding him.

"Quite. In that sense, we are the same." he murmured in a low tone, "We have no fathers, only mentors who act as replacement fathers." Something flickered in his eyes and Luke noticed Layton's fingers twitch ever so slightly.

"Well, you used to, at least. I recall being asked in the Sun Room to stay and be your teacher permanently." the time-traveler shifted tactics to lighten the air, "But I told you then that I had other places to be. Your future was already secured; you didn't need me."

"Your future seems quite secure to me as well, what with your manner of dress and speech and occupation. Historian, journalist?" Layton guessed with a false sweetness that grated on Luke's teeth, "You seem quite fond of that notebook of yours; perhaps archival work? Very secure future in that, I've heard."

"You seem rather preoccupied with knowing if my life has a secured future. Shouldn't you be worrying about your own future, Professor?" Luke growled softly, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. Layton lifted an eyebrow at him as though the thought never occurred to him.

"Not at all, my boy. Why? Should I be concerned with my future? I recall you just saying that my future was secured." he remarked lightly. Luke winced, then grinned suddenly, resting a cheek on one fist.

"Come now, Professor. The future is what you make of it. I'm simply here to observe." he chuckled, "I know the future of your childhood is secure. You sit here before me, do you not?" Layton matched the laugh, tipping his hat back to give a slightly feral smile of his own.

"Well said. It is what you make of it, isn't it? Why else would you be here, living with me and your younger self and dear Flora? Observation from afar just doesn't make the same impact as mingling with history, does it?" he purred, "And as you have secured my childhood, would it not be fair to wonder if your childhood was secure enough to afford you this rare opportunity to walk in the past?" Luke shrugged carelessly.

"Hmm. It's not so much if my childhood's future was secured, but if it was as fulfilling as yours." he remarked and the ice wrapped around Layton once again.

"I can assure you that the childhood I had will not be the model for yours." the Professor returned evenly, the brim of his hat brought down to shadow his face. Luke glanced away, treading lightly in hopes of getting himself out of this suddenly dangerous ground.

"Your father must not have shown it very well, but I'm sure he was still a loving man who cared about you very much." he remarked softly, "Whereas I never really knew if my father loved me before he died. This is the burden of an orphan." The ice melted away and Layton's voice came out small, almost uncertain.

"I'm sure if he could have told you before his passing that he loved you very much, he would have." he murmured, "But with the ability to travel through time, you could easily have just gone to the moment of his death and stopped it." The shadow of his hat lifted slightly, and Luke could see from the corner of his eye that the Professor was giving him a calculating look. One mistake and everything Luke worked for could be destroyed in that instant.

"Perhaps. But my interest lies in this time alone; my past beyond this point will forever remain the past, locked and untouched." he replied, "For it seems to me that my fate is entwined with yours, and I dare not do anything to alter destiny. That is a power no man may touch."

The Professor smiled after a moment and folded his arms onto his desk, gazing up at the grandfather clock situated in the office.

"This has been a most interesting evening, but it has become rather late and we're likely due for dinner." he remarked and stood up, gesturing towards the door, "We'd better get going."

Luke glanced up at him warily, then managed a wry grin as he stood to follow. Somehow, they came away from this duel relatively unscathed, and Luke now had some additional insight on his mentor's intentions. He could only hope that his ability to shield himself had been strong enough to keep information away from Layton as well. In his pocket, the Time-Binder continued ticking, marking a half hour's passing since the completion of the First Hour.


	20. Chapter 20

Luke walked down a street in the fog, looking around himself in faint confusion. This was definitely still London, the fog was an indicator and he could see the Great Clock Tower in the distance, but this fog was thick and visibility was almost nonexistent. And there was this strange feeling around him, on him, like he was walking around in a massive sepia-toned photograph brought to life. He stopped at a lamp post and peered up at it, studying the intricate workmanship for a minute before the low, unfamiliar hissing that emanated from it told him that this wasn't an electric lamp.

"Gas? But this is modern London! We don't use gas in our street lamps anymore!" Luke exclaimed, jumping back from the pole, his hand reaching for his pocket to pull out the Time-Binder, "When am I?" He clicked open the watch, staring into it with horror as the hands ticked away like a normal pocket-watch... because it was a normal pocket-watch. "No... No! I can't be trapped here!" the teen cried and looked around frantically. All of this was wrong; he needed to find some help and locate the real Time-Binder, jump out of this period and get back to his mission!

A store with a large glass window seemed to materialize from the fog and Luke only glanced at it in his panic, then stopped when his mind told him something else was wrong. He turned back to stare at the darkened pane; the store was closed, so no lights made the glass mirror-like. One step forward, then another, then another, until he was running to the glass and pressing his hands against it, staring in horror at himself.

He was still himself, the same youthful face, same sapphire eyes, same spiky hair that he always combed out to keep his cap balanced on his head... but his clothes were all wrong, and yet so right. Brown slacks, brown cloak, orange shirt, brown silk top hat... why the hell was he dressed like Professor Hershel Layton?

"Professor!" a young voice called out and he jerked in response, whirling around in a fury.

"I told you people never to call me-!" he began to yell and choked on his words as young Hershel ran up to him gleefully, wearing an exact replica of his own childhood clothes, down to the blue newsboy's cap and leather satchel, suspenders hanging recklessly at his waist. The boy laughed and did a rather feminine twirl before pointing up at him.

"I got the cap, Professor! Doesn't it look smashing on me?" he remarked brightly. Luke strode quickly towards him and grabbed his hand, walking away from the store and further down the street, swallowing his panic and growing dread.

"Yes, yes. Quite... smashing." he answered absently, "Come on, shortstuff, we have to find the Time-Binder."

The fog continued rolling over the street, producing yet another shadow, smaller than the store. Footsteps sounded as Luke stopped. Hershel stuck by him, clinging to his cloak in fear. They waited tensely while the steps, light and dainty, continued towards them, the shadow growing more defined in face and feature as it drew closer. Finally, the figure became fully visible and Luke gasped softly, a pink color flushing across his face as he took in the sight of Flora Reinhold dressed in a beautiful white silk gown, clutching a bouquet of white roses and lilacs decorated with several sprigs of black mulberry in her hands. Her hair was in her usual ponytail, brushed until it glinted like gold, her eyes dark and sparkling like a mystery entrapped.

"You've arrived, Luke. I'm so glad." she whispered and turned around as the fog produced another shadow that only had to step once to emerge from the mist. Luke stared, shocked while Harold Layton dusted himself off imperiously, brushing lint from the velvet draping on his dark brown cloak, a weathered Bible in his free hand.

"Late as always, Sir Luke." he lectured sternly and sniffed in disdain, pushing his glasses further up his nose, "Acquired the habit from that useless son of mine, no doubt." Luke wanted to snap back at him, but Hershel pushed him from behind with a laugh, sending him stumbling to Flora's side as Harold opened his book. "You don't need all the superfluous fluff. Do you, Flora, take this man, Luke, to be your husband?" he asked stiffly. She smiled up at Luke sweetly, blushing as his face grew hotter.

"Yes. I do." she whispered. Harold nodded.

"And do you, Luke, take this girl, Flora, to be your wife?" he asked of the speechless groom.

"I do." the teen found himself saying without a moment of hesitation and felt his heart jump through his throat to slap his brain for finally getting the message. Harold clapped the book shut and waved a hand at them in dismissal.

"Then by the power invested in me by myself, I declare you man and wife." he announced, "You may now kill the bride." Luke stared at him in horror.

"I beg your pardon? You meant I may 'kiss' the bride, didn't you?" he asked, feeling slightly faint. Harold lifted an eyebrow at him condescendingly.

"No. You may kill the bride. Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all of Time like you." he corrected firmly and Luke gaped at him before looking to Flora, stunned to find her still smiling sweetly and now holding his silver dagger out to him.

"Here you are, Husband." she giggled, "Swift and sure, so my fortune is yours." Luke stepped back from her, eyes wide as he shook from the sheer insanity of the scene before him. Flora's smile faded just a touch, the shimmer in her eyes seeping out. "Luke, don't you love me? You have to do this to complete our marriage." she murmured.

"I'm not killing anyone!" Luke protested loudly, frightened as Hershel darted off into the fog, vanishing into the mist. Another figure appeared at Harold's shoulder, grinning as Flora stepped before them with the dagger in her hands.

"You have to, boy. You were destined to cut out her heart." Don Paolo chuckled, "Take her fortune so that I can take it from my eternal rival!" Luke continued backing away from them, shaking his head in horror as he came up against a solid wall. "Kill your bride, boy... just like you killed your father!"

"That wasn't my fault!" Luke shot back, face paling as he broke into a cold sweat, "He was... he was...!"

The fog rolled again and tiny footsteps dashed rapidly over the cobblestone, followed by the pounding of large steps, moving just as rapidly. Hershel's voice rang out cheerfully, partially obscured by fog and the sound of Don Paolo's booming laughter.

"-prentice saves the day!" the boy finished, leaping into view, clutching his cap to his head as Professor Layton himself emerged from the fog, a determined expression on his face as he clutched his rapier in hand.

"Step away from him. All of you." the older Hershel declared firmly, moving to stand between Luke and the small entourage that had cornered him, "I won't let you harm him." Luke stared up at him in surprise.

"Professor...!" he murmured, trying to step forward to aid him, but discovering that his feet remained rooted to the ground, "What? No!" He pulled on his legs, trying to move, then waved at the older man's back in an attempt to gain his attention, "Professor, I'm stuck!" Young Hershel ran to stand by him, looking up at him with eyes that seemed far too old and tired for his face.

"The future is what we make of it, but when you really look at it, doesn't destiny play a hand in it too?" he asked, lifting a finger to point at him, "Fix Time, set her hand to lay the cards she wanted, not the cards she was forced by someone like you. Someone here must go." Luke stared down at him, blinking in speechless wonder as the boy backed away from him slowly, his gaze still locked on his face.

"I... I will!" the young man finally cried and Hershel shook his head.

"You are already gone. Someone here must go, or Time will follow the hand that was forced and destroy everything." he told him and turned around abruptly, pointing at the Professor's back. The older man jerked with a startled cry, then crumpled to the ground, facing away from Luke as a crimson pool spread underneath him. The ground began shaking, fissures ripping through the street as Harold, Flora and Don Paolo pointed at the fallen Professor.

"End the line, Layton." Hershel whispered coldly, glaring down at his future self. And a heavy weight slammed down on Luke, pinning him to the earth and crushing him, crushing, crushing...

Luke swung an arm aside to topple Hershel off his stomach as he struggled to sit up, the remnants of that strange and horrifying dream already fading away. Thank heavens he hadn't screamed that time or everyone would be rushing in to check on him again. He rubbed at his eyes, then looked around blearily, taking in his surroundings before looking beside himself at Hershel as he lay on his back beside him, grinning impishly.

"Gooood morning, Sir Luke!" he sang. Luke smirked at him lazily, running a hand through tousled hair to try getting it back into its usual spikes.

"You look cheerful, Hershel. What did you do this time?" he asked, eyebrow lifting in mock concern. The boy laughed, stretching his limbs before folding his arms behind his head.

"Not me, per say." he replied with a grin, "The old bloke skipped out on us." Luke froze in mid-rub, blinking at his young assistant.

"He did what?"

In the living room, Young Luke, Flora, Hershel and Luke all sat around the tea table, looking down at the note that had been stuck to the sweets dish by a piece of tape. Young Luke had discovered it when he trudged into the kitchen to start making breakfast, and promptly went into a panic that had woken up everyone in the house except for Luke, who had been caught in the throes of his nightmare too deeply to notice. Hershel went in to wake him up, jumping onto his belly to jolt him out of sleep.

"To whomever is the first to find this letter. I must apologize for having left you all rather suddenly and with no warning, but I have some business to attend to that is most urgent. Sir Luke is more than qualified to look after Luke, Flora and Hershel in my absence, and know that it is with a heavy conscience that I leave this matter to him while I am away. Please don't worry; I will only be away for a few hours. Please enjoy breakfast and tend to your studies until I return. Yours truly, Professor Hershel Layton."

Luke glared at the letter, rereading the words on the sheet. Well, it was official now; if Time didn't kill that man, Luke would... out of annoyance and sheer spite. Snatching up the note and shoving it into his pocket, Luke began tugging on Hershel's cloak to get him to follow.

"Okay, everyone! We have to find the Professor! My mission is to stay by him and observe, and I can't do it if he's gone off on some joyride in London!" he declared, heading for the door, "I've got an idea of where he might have run off to, but we'll have to walk there since he's bound to have taken the Laytonmobile." Hershel tagged after him as Young Luke grabbed his satchel and slung it on, Flora rushing to snatch up a sun hat and her gloves.

"Why can't we use your scooter, Sir Luke?" the young Layton questioned, "The magic one that appears when I close my eyes?" Luke flinched and glanced back at him.

"Because it can't carry more than one person on it, and you can ride it only because you sit right behind me and you're small. More than that is impossible, I'm afraid to say." he explained and opened the door once his younger self and Flora arrived, ready to leave, "Luke, do you have the house key?" The blue-clad boy reached into his pocket and brought out a brass house key, the Layton insignia etched into its head. "Good. Lock up the house when we get out and keep that key safe. I don't have the proper key for this lock." Young Luke blinked in astonishment as they headed outside and he locked the door.

"You don't have the key? Why? You still live with the Professor... right?" he asked in confusion, fear seeping into his voice. Luke twitched the slightest bit before grinning at his younger self.

"Don't be so dramatic! In my time, Professor Layton changed the lock to the front door, so I had to get a different key made. That key doesn't fit this old lock." he answered coolly, "Now, let's get going! To a bus stop!"

"And you're quite sure you want to go through with this?" the headmistress asked for what seemed like the hundredth time since Layton arrived at the orphanage and made his request, "We have plenty of other boys and girls more suited for your case." She waved a hand at a group nearby with a smile, "Take a look! These children are more artistically inclined, and over here we have a budding choir."

"My interest is in Luke Penford, no one else, madam, but I appreciate your earnest in helping these children." Layton replied carefully, "As much as I would like to say otherwise, I'm afraid I am here only for Luke's sake." The headmistress sighed and nodded, leading the way to her office to start the paperwork.

"Goodness but I've never seen so much interest in that boy since he first became of age to apprentice. First that bizarre letter stating an internship for quantum theory, then you..." she declared, throwing her hands up at the idea of it. Layton stepped into the office after her, looking faintly alarmed.

"Pardon me, madam, but did you say that someone else had an interest in Luke?" he questioned, taking a seat across from the headmistress as she pulled out a folder and opened it to reveal several documents and a small collection of photos taken of Luke when he was far younger. "May I be so bold as to ask who that was?"

"Normally, I'd say that's not for you to know," the woman purred with a grin as she lifted a letter from the folder and passed it to him, "but you're the Professor; I know you would never use this information to harm anyone. Sadly, the signature is highly illegible." Layton accepted the letter and read through it carefully, one hand curled over his mouth in thought.

"Quantum field theory... isn't that in regards to... time theory?" the Professor mused aloud, eyebrows furrowing together as he tugged at his mind for more information, "How the events occurring in one moment of time affect events that take place later?" The headmistress waved a hand negligently. "And it was suggested that Luke be taken in to study this? At eight years old? That's preposterous!" he exclaimed, "No child can grasp that kind of science so young!"

"Well, apparently, this gentleman was of the mind that he could." the woman returned with a sigh, "I don't blame him for believing that; Luke was the son of the Penfords, scientists who were on the verge of a new breakthrough in their research when they died in a tragic accident. Must have thought he was a born prodigy of some kind. He was only a baby at the time of the accident, hardly remembers his parents now, but he had cried bitterly when he thought he was the only one in a room." Layton handed the letter back, curiosity rising at the story.

"He doesn't remember his parents?" he asked in confusion, "I was under the impression that he had only his father. I don't recall any mention of his mother." The headmistress blinked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"No, good sir. He remembers nothing about them. Both of his parents died together in the same laboratory accident; Luke was found with their nanny at the Penford residence and brought here when no other living relatives were found that would take him in." she corrected politely, "What gave you the impression that he knew his father?" Layton pinched the bridge of his nose as a faint headache began to grow, fleeting thoughts of a bus and running filtering through his mind. "Professor?"

"I'm all right, thank you for your concern." he answered almost too quickly, "Ah, the truth is that the boy himself told me that he wondered about his father's love for him before his death. He made no mention of his mother." He blinked after a moment and covered his mouth. "Forgive me; I shouldn't have said that. Such information was not mine to share." The headmistress frowned and steepled her hands together on the desk, leaning forward to look him in the eye.

"Professor, as much as you'd like to think best of Luke, what he just told you then can not be true. Worrying over his father without a care to his mother when he has been documented and proven to have no memory of either parent whatsoever..." she told him firmly, "That type of statement from him can only be truth if he has known or been in contact with a man whom he regards as his father who has recently left this world. As such, he's only had contact with the staff of this orphanage and you, and I most assuredly can tell you that all such persons are still alive." Layton sat back in his chair, puzzling over this new information.

"Then why say such a thing...?" he murmured softly to himself.

"Stop it."

"He started it!"

"I don't care who started it. Stop it. Now."

"But-!"

Luke narrowed his eyes at the two boys sitting across from him on the bus. They'd been muttering at one another over something, then some kind of spat started up and the next thing anyone knew, Hershel and Young Luke were punching each other in the shoulders as hard as they could, sometimes trying to bodily shove one another off the seat. Luke immediately told them to knock it off as Flora sat by him in her seat, hiding her blush by looking out the window. When that didn't work, he glared, and in his own timeline Luke's glare was the second most intimidating thing about him, the first being his full name announced to a crowd of people with which he was not particularly happy.

The boys settled down.

"Um, Sir Luke?" Flora finally ventured in a small voice, turning to look up at him worriedly, "Where do you suppose Professor Layton has gone? And why would he leave us the way he did?" Luke looked back at her, swallowing the lump in his throat as best he could before distracting himself with the Time-Binder, clicking it open to check it. Fifteen 'minutes' left. He clapped it closed and sighed, sliding the watch back into his pocket.

"The Professor went to the orphanage where I lived before I was a-apprenticed." he stammered, blushing, "According to historical data I collected in my time, he was doing an investigation but he wasn't to have gone until tomorrow, so I'm rushing to catch up." Young Luke sat up straighter, eyes widening and turning bright at his future self's words.

"The orphanage? What kind of investigation is he doing, Penford?" he asked eagerly and Luke shook his head, folding his arms over his chest, "Aw, c'mon! You can tell me! I'm you, remember?"

"Not if I have any say in the matter." Luke thought to himself bitterly, "I won't let you become me." Out loud he only sighed and lectured him, "I am not telling you that because it's future information. I'm compromising things enough as it it just trying to observe you all." Young Luke scowled, balling his hands into fists.

"Liar! You said in the kitchen that you were here to make sure that something that happens doesn't happen!" he growled and Luke glared at him again, "So you must be trying to stop the Professor's investigation!"

"I am not! I need that investigation to carry on, you twerp!" he shot back, "We're almost to our stop so will you please shut your trap?" Hershel looked between the two of them in confusion, then seemed to light up in understanding. He pointed at Young Luke with a smile at his mentor.

"Oh, I see! He's the boy you were talking about at the manor! The one who's...!" he began to say and squeaked when Luke shot out his hands, scooped him out of his seat, dragged him across to his own lap and hugged him so tight, the poor boy couldn't speak anymore.

"Going to grow up to be that oh-so-loving mentor you have with you now, Hershel? Oh, how right you are!" he declared with false cheerfulness, ignoring the stares he was beginning to get, "Well, here's our stop; everybody off!" And he raced out of the bus with Hershel still in his arms.

Two figures standing across the street from the bus stop watched as the group of children milled about the street corner in their attempts to get reoriented. Don Paolo scanned them over briefly and huffed in annoyance, looking over at his elderly companion with disdain. The other man ignored him, studying the face of his watch with a smug grin.

"I thought you said that your little contraption could locate Professor Layton by his tachyon signature. I don't see that wretched man anywhere!" he griped, shaking a fist in irritation. The elder man clicked his tongue, clapping the watch shut and putting it away.

"Such impatience. It has been my experience to wait for an opportune moment to strike in order to obtain what I desire. The only things that have foiled me thus far are Time and the good Professor." he returned icily, "Time favors her champion, and it was by grace of altered fate that I won over him to make it here; to this time. This era... where I may claim that which is mine and you may claim that which is yours." He lifted his walking cane, gesturing with its brass head towards the tallest of the group, who led the other children as they began strolling down the street. "That young man there... he must be delayed in his venture if you wish to succeed."

Don Paolo gave the group another look, peering through binoculars he borrowed from his partner. After a moment, he switched targets for comparison, frowning deeply.

"He looks like that little brat that follows Layton around. Is he from your timeline, Maestro?" he questioned gruffly and the renamed older Don Paolo laughed heartily.

"Oh, how I wish! No, I am from a further future than even he; a future where the Layton line has ended for all eternity." he purred and reached out with a hand, grasping at the retreating figure as though to pick him up like a small doll and hold him in his grip, "I'm here to correct that slight error so young Luke there will serve you and ultimately, serve me." Don Paolo lowered the binoculars, looking over at his companion with raised eyebrow and calculating stare. Maestro cleared his throat and gestured outward. "Come. We're wasting time and I've learned rather quickly that allowing Time to flow as she wills only gives that boy more power."

"I'd wish you would stop talking so cryptically. You sound like a bloody puzzle!" Don Paolo grumbled under his breath as they stalked through the dark alleys to catch up to the children.

Pen scratched over parchment and paper as Layton bent to his task, signing sheet after sheet until he was certain his eyes were going to cross behind his reading glasses. He read through each one before laying his name to the lines, making certain nothing was approved or signed unless it was to benefit Luke. The headmistress seemed to delight in having him sit there in front of her, scribbling away his name like a madman. She smiled brightly, clapping her hands with each newly signed sheet placed before her. And she would sign them as well, with only half the care Layton took to reading it over but it was negligible for now. Her name underneath his meant that the form was approved.

Meant one step closer to securing Luke's future.

He wondered as he worked, mind trailing off in between those few minutes he stopped to rest his hand. Why had Luke lied to him in the study? Had that been a trap to diffuse the situation, easing the tension that had arisen because he had mentioned his own father? Layton winced, mentally retreating from that wound before it could sting him again.

But things were a bit more clear now, or perhaps not. The Professor rubbed his fingers carefully as he turned the previous night's conversation over in his mind. He was curious as to why this future version of Luke had come into the past, potentially skewing all of time in the process, and had carefully probed for information. The conversation danced around the subjects of childhoods and fathers, and then Luke lied about his own father, claiming to wonder about him when all along he had no memory of two parents, not just one.

Layton smiled suddenly as one piece of the puzzle fell into place, returning to signing the papers before him. His trip into the past must have been out of curiosity to see how his life was changed for the better. Not the most intelligent thing to have done with that kind of power, but he would remember to lecture him later on this, when Luke returned to his own time.

Surely he would be waiting at the house with a lesson on why one shouldn't distort time and fate, correct?

"Bollocks!"

Luke darted down the sidewalk, Time-Binder in one hand, Hershel hoisted under one arm, and Young Luke and Flora racing after him. He'd been keeping an eye on the time as they walked, and panicked when the minute hand began to accelerate. Layton was moving ahead of schedule again!

"Slow down, you twit! Flora can't run like us!" Young Luke yelled at him and he slowed his pace until he was jogging in one spot. Hershel squirmed violently to be let down until he dropped on his own and straightened his clothes out, scanning the area around him quickly.

"Hurry up! I don't have much time left to get there!" Luke shouted back at his younger self, "Do I have to carry you there, too?" Young Luke scowled as he picked up his pace and Flora blushed fiercely, holding her dress up to keep it from tripping her feet as she tried to match the boy's speed.

At Luke's side, Hershel spotted a small cluster of boys across the street and quickly tapped his arm a number of times, finishing with a tilt of his hat and a stretch. The boys scattered into the alleys and Hershel smiled to himself. There; now Sir Luke, the other Luke, and the Flora girl would be safe from pickpockets for now.

Wait...

The hairs on the back of his neck rose and Hershel stiffened, wide eyes making another search of the area. Something was wrong, very wrong.

Don Paolo examined the length of rope once more before gesturing an 'all clear' to Maestro, who simply grinned hugely and aimed the makeshift Bind Rifle at his target.

"Just a few minutes, boy, and you'll be one step closer to being mine." the elder Paolo chuckled under his breath.

Young Luke and Flora finally reached the time-travelers, breathing hard as they rested for a bit. Luke's expression looked somewhat pained as he took in the sight of Flora gasping for air. He reached out to steady her, then looked into his satchel for a small bottle of water.

"I'm dreadfully sorry, Flora, I shouldn't have made you suffer like that." he murmured regretfully, "Honestly, some days I wonder if everything the Professor taught me is just seeping out my head as the days go by." Young Luke huffed as his older self opened the bottle and handed it to the girl.

"Then just have him give you a review lesson! It won't kill you to ask him for one!" he griped. Hershel began tugging on Luke's jacket, trying to get his attention.

"You think I hadn't thought of that already?" Luke growled, pulling out the Time-Binder to check it again, "We don't have much time left." Hershel tugged harder and he looked down at the boy, "What is it, Hershel? Don't you see we're in a hurry?" The boy didn't answer, just pointed down an alley with a horrified look and Luke twisted around to see what was happening.

Two Don Paolos grinned at him as the other children turned to look and yelled in shock and anger, the current time's Don standing by a coil of rope that trailed into a rifle the far future Paolo held pointed right at him!

"They teamed up?" Luke cried in alarm, eyes widening just before the rifle fired and a strange lasso lashed out at him, weighed once more with the same iron spheres as the previous ropes. He stumbled back, trying to dodge the attack, and ran into another figure, who yelped as the two of them became entangled in the rope and crashed to the pavement.

"Hey! What's going on? Why's there two of 'em?" Young Luke shouted, startled by the second Don's appearance.

"Hershel! Take Luke and get out of here!" the bound teen yelled, struggling to get free, "Head for the orphanage up the street! Don't look back; just take him and get the Professor!"

"Owww! Sir Luke! What's happening?" Flora moaned, back pressed to his as she tried to wriggle out of the ropes. Hershel tried to move in as the older men stalked towards them. Luke shook his head at his actions.

"Don't bother! Just go!" he snapped, "The streets are almost deserted; Time played a hand against us, Hershel! Get out of here!" Young Luke grabbed the boy by the hand.

"Come on! The Professor will know what to do!" he exclaimed and, with one last determined look at them, he and Hershel fled the scene, dashing away before Don Paolo could grab them. The scientist growled, shaking his fists as he watched them run too far and too fast for his aged legs to keep up. The elder Paolo grinned smugly, waving a hand in dismissal as he bent to use the rest of the rope to fully bind Luke and Flora together, pinning the young man's feet down to keep him from kicking at him.

"Leave them be for now. They'll come to us with that precious Professor of yours once we deliver a ransom note." he remarked lightly and pulled the bound teens upright, "Once the rest of the historical events fall into place, you will take control of the young Luke." Luke's eyes widened in horror, which made the elder Don Paolo smile all the wider.

"That's what happened! You bloody wank, you're altering this timeline to remake me!" he shouted in a fury, "How the hell did you even make it through the timestream? I'm the only one with access to the Time-Binder prototype! You'd have to get through Lay-!" His tirade was muffled by a handkerchief pressed against his mouth and nose, a similar one placed over Flora as she screamed in fright. Both struggled against the fumes wafting from the chloroform-soaked cloths before dropping their heads in silent sleep.

"Now what, Maestro?" Don Paolo growled as his elder version stood up and opened his own stained Time-Binder, grinning.

"Ten... nine... eight..." he counted off smugly.

"And that's the last one!" the headmistress exclaimed brightly, signing off her name and sliding the form into the folder, "It's all official now! Congratulations, Professor Layton; all you need is an attorney to alter the records to reflect the new documentation and legalize it, and you're all set!" She stood and shook his hand as the Professor smiled warmly at her.

"Thank you very much, madam! I'm sure Luke will be quite pleased when I tell him he no longer has anything to fear in regards to his future." he remarked and picked up his briefcase, tipping his hat politely, "Have a good day, and best wishes to your other charges!"

It felt good, and oddly right, to have all that done. Now to hire an attorney and complete the last few steps. As he headed out of the building, Layton paused for a moment to softly say Luke's name to himself, tasting the strange, yet familiar, new wording. A warmth at the idea of being able to call him that made him blush and he chuckled as he continued on his way, oblivious to the changes in the timestream being made.

"Second event, complete." the elder Don Paolo announced as his younger self finished securing the unconscious teens in a car that looked as though most of its parts had been stripped for use in his inventions, "Just a few more events and Layton's legacy will be mine." He grinned down at the golden watch as the hour and minute hands both clicked down to the third hour. "And soon, all of Time's treasures will be within my grasp."


	21. Chapter 21

Layton hummed cheerfully to himself as he strode towards his car in the driveway, digging out the keys from his pocket. The meeting with the headmistress of the orphanage had been a successful one, and Luke's future was safe and secured. Once the rest of the legal matters were addressed, the boy would become a permanent part of the Layton household. A flicker of thought crossed his mind, a slight suggestion that he should perhaps break the news to his own parents, but he dismissed it quickly, a faint frown playing over his mouth that vanished in the wake of his renewed happiness. Let them find out another way; Harold had made it quite clear where his feelings lay when it came to his only son. Layton certainly wasn't going to let that be the model for Luke.

He was just about to unlock the door when he heard his name being shouted and paused, glancing around himself before turning to stare in shock as Young Luke and Hershel raced towards him, waving their arms and making a ruckus. Though that by itself was cause enough for alarm, the very fact that both children were without their constant companions -Flora for Young Luke and Luke Penford for Hershel- made Layton feel a sudden chill. Where were those two? Shouldn't Sir Luke be looking after them all?

"Luke, Hershel? What are you two doing here?" Layton asked as the boys ran up to him, throwing their arms around him and crying out in fear, anger, and whatever other emotions were churning in them, "Where are Penford and Flora? I left a note for him to take care of you until I returned!" His eyes widened suddenly as another realization struck home. "Wait a moment. How did you two even know I would be here?" he blurted out.

"Sir Luke said that you'd be here because of his data!" Hershel exclaimed, clinging to the older man's cloak, "He knows what's supposed to happen and he just follows and waits for it to happen! He knew you'd come here so he had us all come too!"

"But while we were walking here, Don Paolo showed up and he had another Don Paolo with him, all old and ugly and mean-looking!" Young Luke cried, gripping Layton's cloak on his other side as tears ran down his face, "And they shot a rope at Penford and it tangled him and Flora up and Penford told us to run and get you!"

"Don Paolo has Penford and Flora?" Layton exclaimed in shock, "And there are two of them?" He blinked and gasped softly, one hand going up to his mouth. "The older one... From the manor! He must also be a time-traveller!" he realized and quickly unlocked the car, opening the door and hurrying the children inside, "We have to find them, quickly! Where were you when they were kidnapped?" Young Luke and Hershel bounced into the Laytonmobile, scrambling for seats as the Professor started up the vehicle and rushed out of the driveway.

"Just down the street! About three blocks!" his apprentice exclaimed, pointing down the street. The car sped up, racing to follow his directions and reach the last place Sir Luke and Flora were seen. Once the boy jumped and cried out that they had arrived, the three of them scrambled out to search for clues.

Poking among the garbage in the alley, Hershel spotted the glint of something golden and yelped as he scooped up the pocket-watch that Luke always kept on him. This was important! This was the thing that sent him and Luke through time to this place and it was the only thing that could send them home to the past once his mission was done. Had he dropped it when that creepy old Don Paolo kidnapped them?

"Hey! Old me!" Hershel exclaimed, waving the watch as he turned to spot Layton and Young Luke search the rest of the alley, "I found Sir Luke's special watch!" He ran down to meet them as Young Luke snorted in disdain and Layton sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose out of a mix of irritation, patient suffering and a fading headache.

"Hershel, please. That was rather rude; hadn't your teacher explained that you shouldn't use such disrespectful terms? If you must call for me, 'Professor' or 'Layton' would be just fine." he replied before accepting the golden watch for examination. There were a few scratches on it from having fallen to the ground and Layton thumbed the clasp to check it for damage. The clockwork seemed sound enough, still ticking away slowly and surely. He was about to close it again, when he noticed that the hour and minute hands had shifted to the third hour, the minute hand slightly off center from the numeral.

"Hershel? Do you know what this means?" Layton asked of the boy, leaning down to show him the interior of the pocket-watch. Hershel blinked up at him, then at the face of the watch before frowning.

"A little. Sir Luke said something about it that sounded funny to me. It's a watch that tells time by things that happen, not real time." he replied and tilted his head, "But I didn't understand what he meant." Layton stood up and began pacing in thought as Hershel went back to searching for clues with Young Luke.

The watch told time by events, not by hours or minutes. So if this was the case, then every hour represented an event in time that has passed. He glanced at the watch again, noting the other numbers. Since the hands both started on the first hour when he had his initial look at the watch and now were on the third hour, Layton concluded that two major events had passed by. And since the hands had barely begun their next circuit, that meant the second event had happened very recently. What could those events be and what were the events that had yet to take place?

So deep in thought was he that Layton almost didn't notice the movements around him until he felt something hit his side roughly, throwing him off balance. There were sharp cries from Hershel and Young Luke, the sound of something twanging and Layton stumbled back before finally falling to the ground, unable to help the soft grunt that escaped his mouth from the collision. Another yelp of pain and the Professor rubbed at his hip gingerly before looking up to see the boys tangling with another pair of boys, fists flying and feet kicking.

"Give it back! You louts, give the Professor back his wallet!" Young Luke demanded of the scruffy-haired boy he was currently punching wildly, half his blows missing their marks entirely because the boy was wearing an oversized green jumper, the ends of the sleeves torn enough to fit his skinny arms. He'd pinned the boy down bodily, sitting on his stomach and trading punches as the urchin twisted and fought back just as wildly.

Nearby, Hershel had fired off one of his peppermint candies to stun the other street child, another aimed at him just in case. The boy glared at him, rubbing his temple where the candy had struck him, a streak of dirt on his face covering some of the freckles dotting his cheeks and matching the filthy state of his drab grey shirt and pants torn at the knees.

"Pa-parah." the young Layton remarked suddenly and the freckled boy's eyes widened in surprise before whistling sharply at his partner. Young Luke paused, startled by the shrill sound, and was immediately thrown off in a painfully familiar maneuver that he remembered had been used against him before. Once both street children were standing before Hershel, the taller freckled boy nudged his partner with an elbow and he yelped, pulling up the bottom hem of his jumper to dig out a brown leather wallet with the Layton Family insignia burned onto its flap. He held it out to Hershel, who took it, gave it a quick look over for missing valuables, then stuffed it into his own pocket, crinkling a newspaper clipping that had been left inside against it.

"'Ey! What's going on?" Young Luke demanded to know as he scrambled to his feet. He turned and spotted the Professor, hurrying over to help him stand.

"So, you's be one-nna us, 'ey? Name's Rattik." the freckled boy remarked with a grin at Hershel as he rubbed the sleeve of his shirt against his nose. He pat his partner on the shoulder, "Dis be my brudder, Duke. You?" Hershel grinned back at the boys, tilting his top hat back as he spun his slingshot and slid it back into his satchel.

"Hawk-Eye." he named himself, "Best spotter the Gutter Valley Boys ever had!" Rattik tilted his chin up in defiant dubiousness, which just made his messy black hair flop over his eyes comically.

"Yeah? Best spotter, 'ey?" he questioned, then shrugged and rocked back and forth on his heels like he was completely in control of things, "Den how's about a little test, 'ey?" Hershel grinned wider.

"All right, but when I pass, you gotta answer a few questions for me, deal?" he returned and folded his arms over his chest, "So what's the test?" Rattik scratched his head in thought, then brightened and snapped his fingers.

"Spotters got sharp, fast eyes. Duke here's got da fastest fingers dis part of town. Le's pit one 'gainst da odder, 'ey?" he remarked, digging into his pocket and pulling out three small cups. Layton and Young Luke joined them, watching curiously as Duke dug a flat piece of metal out of a nearby box of junk parts and set it down on the ground. Rattik set up the cups, plucked a small pebble off the ground and held it up to Hershel. "Right, so we has dis pebble, 'ey? I'm gonna put it in one-nna dese cups and Duke's gonna swap 'em 'round. If ya be as good as da stories say about da Hawk-Eye what used to run wid da boys, den we'll be square wid you havin' da name and we'll tell ya what ya want." he explained and set the pebble under the center cup before standing aside to let Duke take over.

The smaller boy bent to take the cups in his hands, waiting until Hershel sat down and focused on them before setting to his task. He whisked them around easily, the soft swish-swish of the cups sliding over metal filling the air as Layton knelt by his younger self, surprising his apprentice with the sharp gaze that was now locked onto the little hands. Faster and faster, the little cups moved, until it was nearly a blur of motion and Young Luke had to look away or be dizzy and sick. How could the two Laytons stand staring at them?

Finally, Duke sat back with a smug grin on his face, his hands spread to show that he had completed his task of changing the cups around to the point that no one could tell where the pebble could be hidden. Young Luke dared a peek and breathed a sigh of relief that it was over, then watched in shock as both Hershel and Layton broke into wide grins that looked eerily the same and just a tad bit wicked.

"You palmed it and it's in the elbow of your right sleeve." Hershel pointed out, lifting a finger to wag at Duke's startled expression, the boy's hazel eyes wide with astonishment, "I told you my eyes were the best in the gang! That's why I'm Hawk-Eye!"

"Blimey!" Duke finally exclaimed and flicked his arm to send the pebble into the air, snagging it with a grin, "Rattik! Those stories weren't bull after all!" The older boy sighed and shrugged with a grin.

"Right, so ya proved ya got good eyes. What do a couple of blokes like you wanna know?" he asked and Hershel looked over at his older self as Layton stood up and dusted himself off.

"Have either of you seen a kidnapping occur here sometime today?" the Professor asked of the boys, "A young man dressed in a blue coat and hat, and a young lady with her hair tied back were snatched from the street here and we're looking for clues to locate and rescue them." Rattik and Duke blinked up at him, then looked at each other in confusion.

"Is he talking about the creepy old blokes with that car we tried twocking? Spikes all over their heads?" Duke asked his brother, waving his hand over his own head as his sleeve billowed down around his shoulder. Young Luke yelped, nodding his head furiously.

"That's them! They kidnapped Penford and Flora!" he agreed, "Do you know where they went?" The street boys laughed and shrugged their arms at the question.

"After we got done nobbling dey's junk heap of a car? Prob'ly a few streets up da way." Rattik snickered and jerked his thumb at the box of parts nearby, "We pulled it apart for scrap. Should be breakin' down any minute now..."

The two Laytons and Young Luke collectively blinked in surprise.

Smoke filled the block as cars screeched to a halt, people crying out in surprise and alarm at the small explosions coming from a single automobile holding up traffic. Two men frantically batted at small flames and tried to get it started again as the smoke continued pouring out of the vehicle.

"What the hell is going on? What happened?" the elder Don Paolo demanded of his younger self as he jabbed at buttons and pulled levers. In the rear of the car, Luke lay propped against the passenger side door, still somewhat tightly bound by rope. Flora was set against him, having been separated from him, then retied for easier transportation. Both of them twitched slightly as the smoke tickled their noses.

"Blasted contraption! Work!" Don Paolo griped, pumping his foot on the accelerator as he twisted the ignition. The elder man coughed, holding a handkerchief up to his nose and mouth.

"It's not going to budge, you nitwit!" he snapped and squinted through the smoke to see a constable rushing up to them, waving his baton to catch their attentions, "And we've got unexpected guests! We'll have to abandon the vehicle!" He slid out of the opened door and began struggling with the back. "You get the girl! I'll take boy!"

"Here, here! What's all this about?" the officer yelled, pulling the elder Don Paolo from his task as the younger jumped from the car, still trying to salvage it, "You're holding up traffic with this belching behemoth!" The time-traveller made an elaborate show of being a confused old man, trying to stall until his younger self could get the teens out of the vehicle and away from the scene.

Inside the car, Flora gave a delicate sneeze and cough at the smoke and slowly opened her eyes. Her head pounded and her eyes stung and watered, but she was at least lying on something more comfortable than the ground. Soft like fabric, but strangely textured. She coughed again and turned her head, feeling her limbs unable to budge in order to cover her mouth. That was when she noticed the color of her cushion. Blue.

It stuck in her mind as she attempted to sift through the fogginess of the drug from earlier, grasping at thoughts in hopes of making one stick to the word. Blue. Flora shifted, mumbling the word and frowning slightly as her cushion shifted as well, coughing also, and with a deeper tone than her own. Blue... and green...

"Hershel... you're heavy... Get off..." Luke groaned softly, moving as if to lift an arm to push the imagined weight off. When he couldn't, his eyes opened fully, alarmed. He looked around himself swiftly, then stared down at Flora, who still groped for the elusive memory while burying her face into his chest. He sputtered, face flaming red, then began struggling, taking notice of the smoke billowing around them and the tiny flames that now began to grow once they'd been left unattended. "F-Flora! Wake up!"

"Blue..." Flora mumbled in half-awareness, curling more against him despite her arms being bound to her sides, her wrists tied together behind her back. Luke blushed more fiercely, twisting in place until he felt the ropes loosening. The smoke continued billowing out, making it hard to breathe and harder to see. The girl coughed again, harder, and instinctively pressed deeper into her makeshift mask.

"Floraaaa!" Luke couldn't help but whine his complaint. He really didn't need this, not at this moment! The ropes slackened at last and he freed an arm, gently pushing Flora away from himself so as to finish undoing his bindings. Once he was clear, he reached for the dagger hidden in his coat and set to task cutting through Flora's ropes.

Outside, the constable found himself losing the battle against the 'befuddled' elder Don Paolo, and other drivers were beginning to lose patience, coming out and crowding the area as the younger Don Paolo tried to shield his face and save his car all at the same time. Another small explosion and a girl's scream of panic cut into the air, sending the crowd racing around in chaos. The scientist spun around to see what had happened, only to have the car door slam into his face as Luke leaped out with Flora in his arms, losing themselves in the mass panic as the elder Don noticed the blur of blue and white. His face twisted in a fury and he lifted a fist into the air, shaking it as he bellowed in rage.

"Layton! I'll get you for this!" He couldn't resist a classic.

A short distance away, Flora blinked at the faint words as she coughed into the handkerchief held over her nose and mouth, then looked puzzled even as she blushed brightly at being carried once again. Did she hear that right? After a few moments, Luke finally came to a stop and set her down, backing away quickly and slumping against a nearby store, coughing fiercely into his hand as they both tried to expel the last of the thick smoke from their lungs. When they were finally able to breathe normally again, they looked at each other, turned red, and looked away again quickly.

"A-are you all right, Flora?" Luke stammered, trying to push away the memory of her snuggling against him. He couldn't get attached, not now! She nodded quickly, still blushing, and pulled the handkerchief away, slipping it back into the pocket of her pinafore. Luke rummaged through his pockets, eyes widening as he found the Time-Binder no longer among his possessions. "Oh no... the Binder!" he cried, checking his pockets again and turning in place, staring back up the road in horror, "No, he couldn't have taken it! Everything would be ruined if-!" He stopped himself, biting down on his lip as he clenched his hands into fists, shaking.

'Think! Calm down and use your head.' he berated himself, 'Don Paolo already has a Time-Binder, somehow. Otherwise, he'd never be able to jump time periods. He couldn't have taken mine because he'd have to search me for it, and if he did that, he would have taken my dagger.' He didn't notice Flora stare at him with wide eyes as he straightened and curled his hand over his mouth, sinking into deeper thought. 'So Don Paolo didn't search me. Therefore, I lost the Time-Binder earlier than my capture. I remember it in my hand when they appeared in that alley. They fired that weapon at me and Flora, so...'

"I dropped it! Back at the alley!" he exclaimed with a snap of his fingers and a grin, "Critical thinking really is the key to success! Come on, Flora! We have to go!" The girl blinked as he brought out a sphere from his pocket and tossed it onto the street, where it exploded in a burst of brilliant light to reveal a shining white motor-scooter.

"Oh! How wondrous!" she cried brightly, clasping her hands together. After she marveled at the vehicle for a few moments, she looked up at Luke with a puzzled expression. "Um, Sir Luke? I thought I heard those strange men yelling after us as we escaped them. That Don Paolo gentleman?" she asked hesitantly, "I was simply curious as to why he would shout Professor Layton's name after you." Luke twitched, then lifted a hand to rub the nape of his neck, laughing sheepishly.

"It's probably a habit for him! Like how the Professor always has his top hat and I always have my blue cap? He can't help but yell 'Layton' every time he's miffed." he replied laughingly, avoiding her gaze, "It's probably a vulgarity to him now. 'Oh Layton this Layton!' or some such rubbish..." He trailed off uncomfortably, then cleared his throat. "Right, well. Let's go." Luke settled onto the scooter, then looked up at Flora, holding out a hand with a lump in his throat, "Y-you'll have to sit behind me. And hold on..." The girl gulped and took his hand, using it to steady herself as she perched on the seat in the most lady-like manner she could, both legs on one side and dress tucked under to keep herself proper.

No sooner had she wrapped her arms tentatively around Luke's torso than they both heard the angry shouts of the Don Paolos chasing after them. They looked back, staring in shock at the pair of men in a freshly stolen automobile, barreling after them in a hellbent fury. A cry of alarm fell from the young man's mouth and he started up the scooter, shooting off with little warning for poor Flora, who wailed in shock and fright and tightened her grip, pulling herself against his back and shutting her eyes tight.

The Laytonmobile roared down the street, tearing past other cars as Layton called out a near constant stream of apologies through the window, eyes searching frantically for a broken down car. Young Luke bounced beside him, seatbelt keeping him mostly in one place, while he held down his hat and cried for the Professor to slow down for the love of the Queen or they'd all end up scattered like puzzle pieces on the street. Hershel scanned the other side of the street, trusting his older self's spotting skill to remain the same as his own. He yelped as he spotted Luke and Flora rush by on his scooter, followed closely by the creepy men in a car that certainly didn't look broken down.

"There! Over there! They went back down the road!" he yelled, pointing wildly and falling back with a yelp as Layton twisted the wheel and spun the car around, chasing after the Don Paolos.

"Hershel, I told you to take your seat and buckle up!" the Professor called over his shoulder, flinching as he turned sharply to keep the other car in his sights, "I thought the boys said their transportation had been sabotaged!"

"It's a different color, Professor!" Young Luke exclaimed, pointing at the car, "That must be another car!" Hershel scrambled up and quickly pulled the safety belts over himself, crying out in a panic with each swerve his elder self did in order to dodge cars coming onto the road. Layton faltered at the wheel, losing speed as he gasped in alarm. "Professor!" Young Luke cried in a panic, scrabbling backwards in his seat as if trying to move away from the dashboard, "I mean they switched cars! Keep going! We'll get hit if you stop!"

The Laytonmobile surged forward again, racing to regain lost ground as the Don Paolos turned abruptly to chase after the scooter. In a panic, Layton turned as well, yelling as grit kicked up by the other vehicle's tires hit his windshield. A spark of anger ran through the Professor, and he used the adrenaline boost to take the risk of flooring the vehicle... only to bring it to a screeching halt when the Don Paolos pulled onto another street just as a passing car entered the road. Seatbelts snapped into place, bouncing the boys back and rattling Layton enough to snap him out of his brief bout of road rage. He pulled his hands from the steering wheel, staring at his trembling fingers, then clenched them into fists and pulled them close to his body, sinking down in his seat with a soft groan.

"Are we dead yet?" Hershel piped up weakly from the back seat.

"Are they still on us?" Luke called back as he drove the scooter down the street. Flora opened an eye, glanced aside at the car with the two Dons barreling after them, and squeaked.

"Yes, Sir Luke! Oh! We're going to be kidnapped again, aren't we?" she cried worriedly, "How will Professor Layton save us?" She buried her face into his back and Luke bit his lip, looking around for something to help them shake off their unwanted shadow. The warning honk of a bright red double-decker bus snapped him out of his thoughts and he stared at it as it turned into a special lane. He blinked, then grinned, turning to follow the bus.

As he'd hoped, the car with both Don Paolos sped up after him. A quick look back showed him that both men were grinning, one more hungrily than the other. They must have thought they had him pinned, what with the lane being only large enough for the bus and no room to either side to pass it by. Luke had to drop his speed, clenching his teeth as he followed the double-decker to a specific booth.

"Flora! Hang on as tight as you can! I'm going to be going very fast in a few moments!" he told her hurriedly and felt the girl's embrace tighten even more, her whimper muffled by his jacket before her face lifted.

"Be careful, Sir Luke." she murmured, then hid her face again. Luke swallowed hard, trying not to panic as he heard the car advance behind them.

"I'll have you in my grasp yet, boy!" the old Don Paolo yelled from the passenger seat as his younger self floored the accelerator. The bus passed by the booth and Luke shot forward, aiming his scooter between two odd metal circles in the street. Before passing them, he slammed his foot down on a pedal that was situated close to the scooter's chassis, out of the way until needed. The scooter emitted a burst of sound and vapor, a hydraulic system, and it launched itself into the air, sailing past the booth while the Don Paolos tore after him on the ground. Upon reaching the point where the odd circles were laid, three bollards thrust up in a split second, smashing into the front of the car and tilting it back. Both men sat there, stunned by what had just happened, while the metal posts sank serenely back into the asphalt.

Luke's scooter hit the ground roughly, tires screeching and smoking as he struggled to regain control, then darting around the bus and onto a quieter, slower street. He came to a steady stop, breathing hard as his heart raced wildly before finally slowing down to normal. A wide grin cracked his face and Flora cried out again as the young man thrust both fists into the air with a cheer.

"I did it! Ha! And the research team thought I was nutty for wanting a hydraulic system integrated into the motor-scooter!" Luke whooped, then caught himself and settled down, coughing delicately into one fist to cover his outburst, "Right, well... Are you okay, Flora? I'm very sorry I put you through all that." The girl lifted her teary face from his back as he twisted carefully to face her. He blinked, then looked dismayed. "Flora! I'm so sorry!" he blurted out, pulling her into a hug as she sobbed.

"That was horrible, Sir Luke! It was frightening and awful and just horrible! I thought we were going to die!" she wept and he sighed miserably.

"I'm sorry. I can't say it enough, but I truly am sorry for what I've put you through. We're safe now, Flora; it's all right." Luke murmured and pulled back, thumbing her tears away, "Dry your eyes. Where's that handkerchief you were using?" Flora sniffled as she tugged the piece of cloth from her pinafore, handing it to him.

"I was embroidering it... as a gift for you... your name..." she managed to say between sniffles, unaware of Luke's horrified stare at the embroidery. It was his blue cap, familiar as always, but within it was the monogrammed 'L' of the Layton Family insignia. He felt light-headed, as if all the blood had drained from his head in one fell swoop.

"Flora..." he finally managed to say and she looked up at him curiously, startled by his expression, "Why...? How...?"

"It's for your name..." she replied softly, "You don't like it? An 'L' for Professor Layton and," Luke felt like passing out right then and there, "an 'L' for Luke. Your name." The young man gasped then, hand flying up to cover his heart as he bent to take deep breaths and get blood flowing back to his head. "Sir Luke? Are you all right?" Flora exclaimed in fright.

"Yes, yes! I'll be fine..." he croaked softly and flicked the cloth in her direction, "Dry your tears... with this. I just need a moment... to remember I'm still alive..."

Once both young people had recovered from the chase and the after-effects, Luke began the more leisurely drive back to the alley where they had been kidnapped from, eager to look for the Time-Binder but mindful of Flora's feelings about riding in the open. Arriving at the alley three blocks from the orphanage, they parked and Luke began searching the area for the pocket-watch, only to pause and blink at the evidence left that showed the alley had already been searched. Tipping his hat back with his thumb, Luke glared down at the earth, slowly making out the outlines of various shoes.

The quick, half-formed steps of stout leather; Hershel Layton, darting from place to place with his sharp eyes. The clumsy, misshapen steps of medium grade rubber; Young Luke Penford, scrambling to keep up and stay by his mentor. Full-formed and confident steps, misshaping slightly in turns as they tramped a patch of earth down flat; Professor Layton, pacing as he set his brain to work on some puzzle he'd discovered. They had been here, so one of them must have found and recovered the watch. Luke sighed and straightened up, heading back to the scooter.

"My watch is safe for now. Come on. Let's head home and see if Hershel got the Professor and Luke back to the house as well. If we're lucky, they'll have headed there to wait for a ransom call or note." he remarked to Flora and began the drive back to the Layton household.

Young Luke sighed and glanced over at the driver's side sleepily. It was growing late and he was hungry and tired. The excitement of earlier had long waned and, while he was still worried about Penford and Flora, his priorities shifted to include a nap and maybe a light supper. Hershel was toying with the golden pocket-watch in the back, clicking it open, then closing it, over and over until he fell asleep with it closed. And in the driver's seat, Layton sat put, arms folded in a self hug and looking like he'd failed to solve a puzzle even after paying three hint coins to help him. Utterly appalled with himself.

He'd driven like a madman, a polite one, but still a madman. And he'd put the two children in serious danger trying to catch up to Don Paolo. What kind of guardian was he? Layton glanced aside at Young Luke once again, feeling his past actions slap him once more for his recklessness, then winced and turned back to the front. He'd held up traffic for a minute or two, until a constable tapped on his window, told him to please move his car and then let him off with a warning because he was Professor Layton. He should know better, after all. So, Layton moved the car to a shady spot by the road and had yet to budge as he replayed the entire sequence of events in his mind, mentally berating himself for nearly killing himself -twice- and Luke -once, maybe twice-. He did this several times, growing more and more upset with himself until he was jolted out of his thoughts by a small nudge to his side, just between his ribs.

"Professor...? May we go home now? Please?" his young apprentice asked faintly, outstretched fingers still hooked into his cloak, luminous blue eyes shining in the dark as he blinked slowly at him. "We can call the constable to help look for them, and get some rest... and dinner..." Layton nodded and finally restarted the car, heading for home. All he could do was hope that the young man and woman were still unharmed, wherever they were.

When he reached the house and pulled into the small garage, he noticed, with some alarm, a small white scooter parked in a cozy little space nearby. Layton stepped out of the vehicle, peering at it carefully. He placed a hand on the seat, frowning slightly. It was still warm, so it was recently left there. For some reason, it looked oddly familiar; didn't Sir Luke have a white scooter?

"Professor?" his apprentice called and Layton jumped, whirling around in surprise as Young Luke stood there behind him with Hershel next to him, the smaller boy rubbing an eye as he yawned.

"Ah, Luke, Hershel. Do either of you recognize this?" he questioned, gesturing towards the vehicle. The boy in blue tilted his head in a puzzled manner before shaking his head in the negative. Hershel lit up and ran to it, putting his arms around it in a hug.

"This is Sir Luke's magic scooter! He's here!" he exclaimed and hurried off to the front door, Layton and Young Luke hurrying to keep up. The Professor's thoughts leaped ahead to imagining the young people safely inside, probably worrying over them. He was actually wrong; Penford and Flora sat on the stoop, dozing quietly by the door.

Young Luke wrinkled his nose at the sight. "Ew. More cooties." Layton smiled as Hershel gave the boy a punch in retaliation, then the smile turned over as he took in the scene again. Penford and Flora were still outside, which meant the house was locked. Why didn't Penford unlock the door? Layton had given Luke a copy of the house key to carry with him. He asked this of his apprentice and Young Luke scowled as he rubbed his arm. "He said you changed the house lock in the future, so his key doesn't fit our lock anymore." he replied. The Professor looked confused. Why would he change a perfectly good lock?

"Unlock the door, please, Luke. I'll wake them up." he finally remarked with a sigh, "What a tiring day." His apprentice hopped up the steps to open the door as Hershel headed for Penford and started tugging at his sleeve, murmuring for him to wake up. Layton carefully picked Flora up, mindful not to wake her, and headed inside. Outside, Luke awoke in surprise and blinked as his own apprentice held out the golden watch to him.

"I'm glad you made it, Sir Luke." Hershel mumbled after he accepted the watch and checked the time. The boy suddenly threw himself at the young man in a hug, whimpering, "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you!" Luke only sighed and picked him up, standing to enter the house himself.

"The second Hour is done ahead of schedule, but we're still moving to the third Hour. How odd." he wondered aloud as the boy sighed contentedly, head resting against his shoulder, "Could the Time-Binder be compensating for the acceleration in event timing? Or is someone in the future altering my programming remotely? Is that how I wound up in the far past?" The worried look didn't leave his face for the rest of the evening.


	22. Chapter 22

Morning found Penford and Young Luke both in the kitchen working on breakfast. This easily kept Flora out and busy with getting Hershel to dress and be ready for the day. Layton was grateful for these facts, as he went straight to his office first thing and began making calls. The sooner he had everything squared away, the better.

A call to the university to reschedule his lecture. He would return in two days to give it. That would be time enough to reorganize his notes and let the students fully recover from Don Paolo's intrusion, as well as ensure that the auditorium was secured in case he tried something more.

A call to a bakery for a specially prepared picnic lunch. Something nice to help ease stress and calm the nerves, especially after what happened the previous day.

A call to an attorney within range of a nice park, so he could drop off the paperwork for the legalization process before taking everyone on a picnic.

And that was where he was ensnarled.

"No, sir, I didn't... pardon?" Layton stammered in confusion, "A letter? To you? No, for me? But it was sent to you?" His hand ran through his hair several times in a nervous habit, pulling apart the neat combing he'd just finished earlier. "I'll pick it up when I see you today, to give you the documents from the orphanage. ...A talk? ...Sir, I believe I'm... well, that is to say... I'm of the opinion that... No, no..." He sighed finally and closed his eyes, flinching as he remembered the wild chase from the other day. "Maybe a small one. Just to assure myself, at the very least. This is an extraordinary new event for me, after all." he murmured, "I'll see you shortly. Good day, sir." He hung up the phone, then ran both hands into his hair, sighing as he traced over his plan for the day once more.

He would take the children out on a picnic lunch as an apology for the previous day, dropping off the documents along the way as a side errand, but that talk was going to be a bit of a problem. Too short of a chat, and the attorney would most probably think ill of him; too long, and he would arouse the suspicions of the children. He could simply take them inside the office with him, but how to explain what he was doing at an attorney's office? Should he just... tell Luke what he was planning to secure his future?

But if it fell through... if the attorney deemed him unfit... the boy's hopes would be utterly dashed, his bright spirit broken and dampened beyond all aid. Penford would never forgive him.

Layton suddenly sat up in shock as a bolt of realization ran through him like lightning. Penford! Surely he was the proof that his venture was a success; how else would he be so proper and gentlemanly, and traveling through time as well? It had to be because the process was a success, the legalization went through and...

A sharp frigidness washed over the Professor as another realization fell into place if that were true. The name. He gave his name as Penford. The time-traveller had lied to him.

"You gave him back his wallet?" Luke asked of his apprentice as he stirred his tea, waiting for the Professor to show up and eat breakfast. Young Luke and Flora had finished long ago, and offered to do the dishes but were declined when Luke remarked that he should pull his own weight in the household. Hershel had finished as well, but stayed in the kitchen to be near his mentor and work on a matchstick puzzle.

"Yes, Sir Luke. I slipped it into his cloak while he was shaving in the bathroom." the boy replied, moving another of the sticks, frowning, then putting it back. "Blimey, this one's a tricky puzzle!" he grumbled. Luke glanced at it, sipping his tea thoughtfully. It was one of the puzzles he'd done as a child and it had given him some trouble then. Thankfully, he was able to remember it and recreate the puzzle for Hershel. He'd woken up that morning and felt decidedly off, realizing after some consideration that several of his own memories seemed to have faded into obscurity. His notepad continued going blank and returning early pages with the double handwriting. All in all, Luke was growing more worried about his own fate, especially now that he knew Don Paolo was tampering with the events to force him into his service.

"You were close. Change your view of it." Luke finally remarked, opening his notepad to a fresh page and beginning to write down his thoughts. He had taken notes every night before bed, but this time, he was writing down the beginnings of another theoretic equation. 'If I can calculate the probabilities of various events shifting the timeline, maybe I can deduce the end result of Don Paolo's efforts.' he thought to himself, listing the historical events he had programmed into the Time-Binder and writing alternate scenarios to each event.

The feeling of being watched crept over him and Luke stopped writing, looking up in surprise as Professor Layton entered the kitchen and sat at the table in silence, poking at his breakfast with his fork. Hershel blinked at him, then shrugged and went back to his puzzle. Luke closed his pad, tilting his head curiously at his former mentor's odd silence. Layton continued poking at his breakfast, occasionally eating some of the food, all the while looking disappointed.

"Professor?" Luke called out cautiously and Layton snapped to alertness, seeming to notice the two of them for the first time.

"Hm? Oh, good morning, Penford, Hershel." he greeted distractedly, "I hope you have time for an outing with us. I plan on taking the children to the park on a picnic." Luke gave him a suspicious look, sipping at his tea again before answering.

"I was hoping to stay here for the day. Even though we've healed, Hershel and I, I would prefer not to expose ourselves too often to this timeline." he replied carefully and the older man seemed to focus right on him.

"That wasn't meant to be a request." Layton murmured and Luke took on a startled expression, "I have an errand I need to do today, and I thought it would be nice to ease everyone's nerves by going out on a picnic in the park right after I complete my errand." He went back to eating breakfast, paused, then gave Hershel a playfully suspicious glare, "Young man, did you eat my black pudding again?" The boy stared up at him in surprise and Layton waved his fork around in a circle, "I taste the flavor of black pudding in my breakfast, but there is a rather distinct lack of it on my plate."

"Blimey, you're good." Hershel murmured with wide eyes and snickered with sudden mischievousness, "Guess more of me is rubbing off on you, eh?" Luke sighed and shook his head in dismay. This wasn't going to end well. Layton only shrugged slightly and finished his breakfast before setting the dish in the sink.

"So we are in agreement that all of us going out on a picnic sounds like a fine idea?" he asked, giving the young man a look that told him in no indistinct words that 'No.' was not an acceptable answer. Luke sighed as he stood to wash the dishes.

"Yes, Professor. Sounds just dandy." he forced himself to say. So much for being around for the third event and gathering clues; his memory told him that shortly after the second event, a letter would be found at the house. Layton had read it, looked startled, then immediately burned it and said nothing about it to either Luke or Flora. He wanted to know what it said, and had hoped to intercept the letter before the Professor got it.

The trip was a bit on the noisy side, as Young Luke and Hershel renewed their rivalries over who had the better mentor by setting up a contest of puzzles, loud and angry puzzles. Flora clapped her hands over her ears and whimpered, gazing heavenward for either strength or divine intervention, whichever was soonest in coming. Luke kept rubbing at his temples, occasionally glaring back at the boys to quiet them down, then checking his pocket-watch in concern. Layton would glance over at him now and then, look as if he was about to ask something, then sigh and say nothing as he resumed driving. Now and then, he would toss back a request for the boys to settle down. Young Luke obeyed; Hershel did not, so Luke would have to step in and say it himself to get him to listen.

It would have ended sooner if the little 'family' had actually gone straight-away to the bakery, got the picnic lunch, and then headed for the park. But Layton had an errand to do and he had to do it first, so he instead drove in a rather nervous silence to the official-looking building that housed a dozen or so attorneys of law. The children in the back looked confused; Luke stiffened, mouth opening slightly in shock and... despair?

"Professor, I thought we were going on a picnic. What are we doing here?" Young Luke asked as Layton parked the car and sighed.

"I have something I need to discuss with a gentleman here first. If you'd like, you can come with me and stay in the lobby until I am done." he replied and Luke opened the door immediately.

"I'm coming with you." he announced and amended his words at a stern look from his former mentor, "As far as the lobby. Hershel has a few puzzles he hasn't worked on yet from the book." Young Luke blinked and opened his satchel, peeking inside.

"Well, I have some schoolwork I haven't completed yet, and my puzzle workbook has a few pages left. I suppose I can finish those inside." he remarked and headed out of the car. Flora followed after him, glancing towards his elder self cautiously.

"I still have a little embroidery left to do." she added, catching the pained flinch on Luke's face, "It should keep me adequately occupied until it is time to leave again." Layton glanced between them with a faintly suspicious expression, then nodded and headed for the trunk of the car.

"Then it's settled. This shouldn't take more than a quarter-hour or so." he decided and pulled his briefcase out, locking everything up once he was ready. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he led the way into the building, trailed by the children and young man.

"Mr. Penford?"

Luke looked up with tired, teary eyes at the gentlemen in their expensive suits standing before him. He had been sitting in the den on the sofa, hugging a cushion for comfort as a few straggling bobbies meandered through the house, collecting the last few bits of evidence. He rubbed at his eyes, feeling sore and battered after everything he'd been through, and dreaded having to go through his memories again.

"I've told the constables everything already." he whispered, his voice thick with pain and anguish, "Please, no more questions. I just want to be alone for a while." But the men sat down across from him, opening up briefcases and pulling out folders. Luke had felt his interest rise at their actions, then fade as the weight of the past few days pressed down on him again. He and Flora had been living with a neighbor of the Professor's while the investigation went on in the house; it was there that Flora decided she couldn't take the grief and summoned a cab to take her back to St. Mystere. She apologized to Luke and wished him the best, then vanished with hardly a look back at him. He'd never felt so crushed since discovering his mentor's cold form in the office.

The gentlemen looked at one another, then shook their heads, opening their folders and gazing at the papers within them.

"Mr. Stevens, please stand by Mr. Penford. He will require an attorney for this." one of the men told another and the one called Stevens quickly moved to sit by Luke, giving him a small smile in an attempt to reassure him. Luke's eyebrows furrowed slightly, uncertainty rising at the men's actions. "Mr. Williams is here on behalf of the orphanage. Mr. Williams?" the first man went on and the eldest of the three men cleared his throat, reading from his papers.

"'Our many condolences for the loss of Professor Hershel Layton, may he rest in peace. However, the matter remains that his death cancels the apprenticeship of one Luke Penford, effective immediately. Please gather your materials and await transport for your return to the orphanage until a new apprenticeship opportunity opens for you.'" he read and set the folder away, looking at the boy with saddened eyes, "I'm very sorry for what has happened to you, lad, but it is time to go now." Luke's grip tightened on the cushion, eyes going wide as he began to panic. No, no! He didn't want to go back there! The older boys would never let him hear the end of this; not after he'd been chosen over them to be apprenticed to the great Professor! And they'd sooner put him to work in the factories than send him out to be involved in another scandal like this!

But the first man lifted a hand to halt the proceedings and opened his own folder, clearing his throat.

"I will do a reading of Professor Hershel Layton's last will. Miss Flora Reinhold has already declined to be of any part and forfeited her share, if any, to whomsoever gains control of the properties mentioned in the will." he remarked and the other two attorneys looked to him in surprise. The man studied the document, sighed, then began. "'I, Hershel Layton, professor of the field of archeology and self-proclaimed lover of puzzles, being of sound body and mind, do hereby bequeath upon my passing the entirety of the Layton estate to be divided equally between one Miss Flora Reinhold, heiress of the Reinhold estate, and one Luke Penford...'" The man paused, eyes widening as his voice went silent. The others in the room glanced at each other in confusion, then back at him.

"Mr. Farell? Is there a problem with the will?" Stevens questioned, taking on a grim look, "Anything that could harm my client will have to be..." Farell shook his head quickly, pale-faced expression still locked on the document in his hand.

"I... one moment." he stammered and sifted through his folder to pick up another leaf of paper, skimming over the words on it, "My word... The attorney who died last week in that car accident, Mr. Riley, did the work for this. No wonder!"

"Mr. Farell, the will, if you please." Williams prompted, "I don't mean to be rude, but that could decide the future of young Mr. Penford here and..."

"Layton." Farell said suddenly, firmly, a new light in his eyes. Three sets of eyes blinked at him in confusion and the attorney returned to the document in his hand, a ghost of a smile playing over his lips as he finished reading aloud.

"'I, Hershel Layton, professor of the field of archeology and self-proclaimed lover of puzzles, being of sound body and mind, do hereby bequeath upon my passing the entirety of the Layton estate to be divided equally between one Miss Flora Reinhold, heiress of the Reinhold estate, and one Luke Penford Layton, my loyal apprentice and beloved son, to do with as they see fit in terms of furthering their education and securing their futures. I am sorry I can no longer be with you, my dear children, but at the very least I can provide you with this to ensure you never need to worry about a home or your futures. Until we meet again, signed Professor Hershel Layton.'"

The occupants of the room fell into a dead silence, utter shock passing over them. Williams sputtered, dumbfounded as he made a flailing gesture towards Luke, the poor boy stunned speechless. Farell smiled more broadly, setting his documents down.

"And since Miss Reinhold has already declined her portion, that makes young Mr. Layton the sole heir to the estate. This house included." he remarked and looked over at the elder attorney, "And since the orphanage requested the return of one Luke Penford, I'm afraid we must politely decline that request. Luke Penford, legally speaking, exists only as Luke Penford Layton and thus can not be brought in to an orphanage unless all surviving relatives refuse to give aid or shelter, or he can not acquire a legal guardian within two weeks."

"Then I'll be his temporary guardian!" Stevens offered suddenly, a hopeful expression on his face, "Since I was named as Mr. Layton's attorney, that gives me some guardianship, doesn't it? He'll need to reorganize everything to be sure the estate is thoroughly under his control, and merge the Penford estate with it... that could take several months!" Farell smiled again.

"Long enough for Mr. Layton to find a more permanent guardian and be protected from returning to the orphanage. Well done." he mused aloud and stood up, beaming down at Luke, "We'll need to discuss this in further detail, but for now, congratulations, Mr. Layton. Is there anything you'd like to say now in regards to your inheritance?" Luke only stared up at him, trembling, before finally screaming in a mix of horror, anguish, and pain.

"Professor! WHY~?"

"Sir Luke?"

He jumped slightly, gasping softly as he snapped out of his trance after having lost himself to his memories once again. Luke looked around quickly before spotting Hershel standing by him, looking worriedly up at him, his small hand tugging on his jacket.

"You were looking sad again. Another bad memory? You seem to have a lot of those." the boy remarked quietly. Luke managed a smile and shook his head.

"No, not really bad, just painful. It's nothing to worry about." he answered briskly and led the boy back to the bench where Young Luke and Flora sat in waiting. The Professor had gone into a nearby office, which was where Luke had been inching towards in order to listen in on the conversations, and the children were beginning to fidget. Young Luke had finished his puzzles and schoolwork, then asked Hershel with a smug grin if he needed help with his own book.

This caused a small shouting match that was very quickly quelled by the older Luke after the ladies and gentlemen in the building sent them disapproving looks. After that, Young Luke just sat there, looking bored, and Flora had looked around herself a bit before spotting the secretary working busily at her station. She lifted a finger to her lip for a quick moment of thought, then gathered herself up to go and talk to the woman. She stood up and walked quietly towards the secretary, her motion catching Luke's attention as he arrived at the bench with Hershel.

"Hershel, stay here and be proper. I'm going to see if Flora is all right." he told the boy and followed after the girl. Hershel blinked in surprise as he sat on the bench, then sighed, sitting back with his arms folded behind his head.

"What I wouldn't give to have Fidget here right now." he muttered under his breath and Young Luke stared at him in confusion. Hershel noticed the look and shrugged again. "He's one of my partners from the Gutter Valley Boys, a kind of twitchy ginger bloke. Always got sent out with me when we did big jobs. Fidget could get all the attention he wanted focused right on him, and the rest of the boys could get away with anything. Made my job lots easier, since then I only had to watch the people watching him." he explained lazily. Young Luke uttered a gasp and covered his mouth in surprise as the other boy glanced at him again. "What?"

"You're a thief?" Layton's apprentice hissed through his teeth in alarm and shock, "But Professor Layton is a gentleman; how can you be a common street thief now?" Hershel scowled at him and huffed in disdain.

"I am who I am because I want to be like this now. I don't care one whit about your stupid old Professor, because that's not me." he snapped back angrily, "I don't want to be him, if he really is my future. He's old and nancy, and I will not go through my life getting beaned on the noggin because I had to give up being Hawk-Eye!" He poked at Young Luke's chest forcefully, "So you back off! You and your pretentious Professor! So cloying and clinging and... you make me sick with your fawning over him! Absolutely sick!" With that, he scooted away from the other boy and refused to acknowledge him. Young Luke only stared at him, aghast, then looked worriedly at the office where Layton had entered just a few minutes ago. If Hershel disliked him so strongly and openly like this, who was to say that those feelings didn't fester over time in Layton, hidden under the layers of gentlemanly behavior?

"Maybe these errands are meant to separate me from him." he whispered sadly, "So I won't be a bother to him and my future will be secured elsewhere, perhaps at a university or some scientific institution." He hugged his satchel tightly, refusing to cry in public.

"Ah, excuse me? I don't mean to be rude, but I was rather curious as to your duties in this form of employment." Flora asked as the secretary lifted her head in surprise. The young girl curtsied slightly, "My name is Flora Reinhold; my guardian is Professor Layton, the gentleman who is meeting with someone here. I wanted to occupy myself, and I was curious about what it is you do." She smiled shyly. "It looks rather interesting, and perhaps may be something I could do once I am older." she added. The secretary blinked, then smiled back.

"It's not as difficult as some would say. I just take messages for the attorneys, forward calls, and make appointments. I have other duties as well, including sometimes fetching lunches for the men and searching through the books of maritime law." she explained and glanced aside in surprise, "Oh? Are you interested in this as well, young sir?" Flora stiffened in surprise, looking back as Luke walked up to join them, an odd smile on his face.

"I was just on my way to check on Miss Reinhold, as I was placed in charge of Layton's wards until his meeting is done. Do go on with your conversation; it's rather fascinating." he replied smoothly and the secretary turned a shade of pink as she giggled behind her hand. Flora found herself frowning and quickly hid it behind her hand until it went away.

"All right. Let me think." the secretary mused aloud, pressing a fingertip to her lips as she considered her next words, "Well, we also do the checking of the mail, sorting it and delivering it to each of the attorneys every morning, making copies... oh!" She blinked and smiled brightly, "I just remembered that we even had a note come in for your guardian, Professor Layton!" At this point, Luke's eyes widened and he held out a hand suddenly.

"Wait a moment, please, madam!" he remarked, "That note you received for the Professor; could you tell me more about it? Or even better, let me see what it says?" Flora furrowed her eyebrows delicately, wondering why he would be so interested in that.

"Well, an elderly gentleman brought in a letter addressed to Professor Hershel Layton and asked that it be given to Mr. Riley for his meeting today. Why do you ask?" the woman inquired in a puzzled tone.

"Did you make a copy of that letter?" Luke asked, trying to keep himself calm and collected as the woman nodded. Was this the reason why the third hour was accelerating so quickly? "If I may, could I see that note? I keep track of the Professor's records, and a copy of that note would be quite useful if he should happen to misplace the original." The secretary smiled warmly as she pulled a leaf of paper from a folder nearby.

"Well, aren't you a responsible young man! Any girl would be lucky to be courted by you, I'm sure." she purred, handing him the copy. Luke blushed and glanced aside almost shyly.

"Th-thank you for your kind words." he stammered and turned his attentions to the document in his hand. Flora huffed, her face flushing brightly as the secretary chuckled quietly behind her hand.

Upon entering the office of the attorney he spoke with on the phone, Layton felt a distinctly odd sensation. The attorney at his desk looked too pale and ill-fitted for the crisp grey suit he wore, his red hair short and dusty in hue, and his left hand kept tapping out a broken beat on the desktop as he scribbled in a day-planner with a pen. He looked up at the Professor when he knocked on the door, momentarily startled, then grinned widely at him, freckles spattered across his cheeks distorting from the expression. For the strangest reason, Layton felt as though he should know that smile, but his memory of it was fuzzy at best. Perhaps Hershel was involved somehow?

"Hawk-Eye! I almost didn't recognize you!" the ginger attorney exclaimed and gestured towards the seats before his desk, "It's been too long, old chum! I've made my way in the world, as you can see. Got myself cleaned up and worked through the rungs of society to become an attorney of law." He waggled his eyebrows with a chuckle, "So now I can legally rob people of their money, eh, Hawk-Eye?" Layton managed a polite, if slightly strained, smile as he glanced around himself for some clue as to what the Dickens was going on. "Ah, still scoping for exits and loot?" the gentleman asked sagely, "That's my old partner in crime. You're looking like you did well, too. What got you clean, if I may ask? Truancy officer or the church?"

"Ah. Begging your pardon but..." Layton sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "My memory isn't exactly at its best right now. You referred to me as Hawk-Eye... might you have been one of the Gutter Valley Boys in our youth?" The attorney lifted an eyebrow at him, still grinning.

"Hawk-Eye, you were the best at spotting, but you never did have much focus on things that didn't capture your attention." he mused aloud, "Not surprised you don't recall my Valley name. It's Fidget. I go by my true name now, Daniel Riley." Layton's eyes widened in surprise, leaning forward over his briefcase.

"Fidget? My word, you have done exceedingly well! You are absolutely correct; it has been a dreadfully long time!" he remarked and smiled more genuinely, "And you seem to have attracted the attentions of a certain someone, if I am to judge correctly by the ring on your hand and the photos on your desk." Riley laughed heartily, patting his ring affectionately.

"Well done, Hesch, well done! Sharp as ever, I see. I would love to spend some time discussing our history and catching up, but I'm on the clock and I have to meet with someone rather important." he replied and rubbed his chin with a smile, "You see, I received a call this morning from -and you're not going to believe this, Hesch, but it's true- Professor Hershel Layton himself! The man's coming here to meet with me about legalizing the adoption of that one orphan boy he apprenticed." Layton lifted a hand to adjust the brim of his top hat as he chuckled softly. Riley beamed at him. "Say, how about you stick around? Get a glimpse of London's famed Professor yourself?" he invited, "Be a good way to pick up the ladies later, telling them you stood in the same room as Professor Layton of London fame." Layton leaned forward again with a faintly mischievous grin.

"Well, Fidget, how about instead of telling those young ladies that I stood by Professor Layton, I tell them that I am Professor Hershel Layton?" he inquired and Riley scoffed, laughing again in good humor.

"Oh, that's a good one! Why would you tell them a silly thing like that for?" he asked in return, wiping away a tear, "A story like that wouldn't hold water, old bean!" The Professor kept his smile as he opened his case and deposited his documents onto Riley's desk, his name and insignia prominently displayed before him.

"Perhaps because it holds only truth, Mr. Riley?" he returned, still smiling as the attorney gaped at the papers, then up at him, "Come now, Fidget, a gentleman doesn't go around with his mouth open like a fish seeking food. It's unbecoming of them."

"Well, I'll be...!" Riley breathed in shock, blue eyes wide as he sat back to let it sink in, "I was partners in crime with Hershel Layton!" He blinked suddenly and sat up, a faint frown on his face, "But you were of the upper class, and still are from what the papers say. Why would an upper class boy join a gang of ruffian orphans and working class boys?" Layton glanced aside for a moment, then shook his head.

"I felt more love from the Gutter Valley Boys for who I wasn't than from my own family for who I was. At the time, I was certain that without my interactions with the rest of you, I surely would have gone mad." he replied quietly. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them with new determination. "But that was in the past, and I have to turn to the future, especially in regards to my apprentice." he stated firmly and Riley nodded, picking up the documents and reading through them.

"As you wish, sir. One last moment in the past before we move on, for my own peace of mind at the least." the attorney agreed and smiled slightly, "That day you lifted that exquisite pocket-watch and the lot of us were chased down by that blue-coat bloke... did he ever track you down?" Layton laughed, thinking back to Penford in the lobby sitting by young Hershel doing puzzles.

"Well, he did and I had to return his watch, but by then I was having such a wretched day that he took pity on me and led me home, where he taught me a lesson on gentlemanly behavior and defended me from my own mother and earlier in the day from my father." he mused aloud, "I was so filled with admiration by then, that I just about demanded that he become my mentor, and he did. It was only for a short while, but we were very close during the time he was with us." Riley grinned as he listened to the story, cheek resting on one fist.

"Bum chums?" he inquired and Layton gave him a glare, which set the man to chuckling, "My apologies, but you left it vague enough to let me make the assumption. I know what you truly meant, and I'm glad you found a good mentor, if only for the while." He sighed and sorted the papers in his hand, a new expression on his face. "Now, on to business. According to these documents, you wish to finalize the adoption of one Luke Penford and have his name altered to reflect his adoption, is that correct?" he asked seriously and Layton nodded, "Before I do any of that, I'd like to converse with you about your state of readiness for having this child as your own and living with you."

"He's been living with me for two years now; surely that in itself is a sign that my household and schedule are more than adequate for his continued stay, is it not?" the Professor asked in a puzzled tone and Riley shook his head.

"My concern isn't in your house and work, Professor, but in you yourself." he corrected firmly, "I have no doubts on your upkeep; you are of the upper class, after all. But our conversation over the phone alerted me to uncertainty in your voice." He steepled his fingers together, studying the man before him carefully. "Do you feel as if you are capable of being a father to this boy?" he asked grimly. Layton blinked in surprise, then sighed, sinking back into the leather chair he'd been offered earlier.

"I have always thought myself responsible and well-mannered, but recently I was involved in an incident that makes me wonder if I truly have grown beyond my days as that errant little street thief." he remarked and Riley gestured for him to continue, "I had driven recklessly, chasing someone who had taken two of my charges from me in a ruthless kidnapping. I could have gotten myself and Luke killed! And now that I think of it, I can recall various other locations I've taken him to that could have brought him serious injury, or far worse..." Layton brought his hand over his eyes, using every ounce of willpower to not fall apart right then at the sudden sharp image in his mind of his young apprentice in his arms, battered and bloody and gazing up at him with that same trusting smile even as the life fled from his eyes.

"Then in pursuit of your ventures, you should have left him behind. Same as with your chase; you could have easily abandoned him where he stood so you could give pursuit on your own." Riley remarked coolly, "Far better, return him to the orphanage so you will no longer have these worries. You'll only burden yourself if you adopt him."

"I will not leave him to be thrown to the whims of the fates in such a manner." Layton bit back, lowering his hand to stare at the attorney grimly, "I wish to adopt him to secure his future so he would never have to worry about where he will live or work from the end of his apprenticeship and on." Riley didn't seem convinced, resting his chin on both hands as he stared back at the Professor in a decidedly unimpressed gaze.

"Then place him in the service of a scientific university. According to these documents, Luke Penford is the only descendant of the Penford scientists. Surely he would be valued as a student by his parents' colleagues, and perhaps be raised into a fine scientist himself." he countered, eyes narrowing, "You are not needed to be in his future to make it secure. He can survive with or without you; he has before, he will again. Why do you wish to adopt him? Unless you can answer me that, I will deny you any right to taking Luke in as anything but your apprentice." Layton glared at him suddenly.

"You wouldn't dare." he accused icily, "Of course he'll need me in his future! Who else would teach him to be a gentleman without browbeating him? Who else would care enough about his opinion to ask him for it and truly consider it? Who else would sit up at night with him when he's had a nightmare or is suffering from a fit of coughs? Who else would drop a phone call with the president of the Historical Museum to investigate the cause of his sudden frightened scream?"

"Certainly not any scientist." Riley agreed bluntly, "They wouldn't have that kind of love for the boy." Layton nodded fiercely.

"Exactly! But I do!" he declared and froze in shock before sitting back down heavily, unaware that he'd been rising from his seat with every declaration. "My word..." he breathed at last, eyes wide with new realization, "That was what you were after." The ginger attorney smiled and dipped his head once in acknowledgment. "Why? ...How?"

"Hesch," Riley began, using the old nickname again, "you told us before how wretchedly you were treated by your father and how you never wanted to be like him when you had children of your own as an adult. I wanted to be sure you kept your promise to yourself." He spread his hands open with a pleased look on his face. "So when I heard your doubts, I knew I had to take the chance to see where your true intentions lay in this. If you couldn't admit and acknowledge and thus provide a loving environment in this adoption, then there would be a great risk of you becoming that which you despised most; a cold-hearted, pretentious bastard of a father." he went on, "But you've broken through all that and allowed me to see how you would truly be in regards to the boy. My apologies for having to goad you into such a passionate display." Layton sighed again, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"But that's how you claimed everyone's attentions." he muttered under his breath. After a few moments, he dropped his hand, regaining his composure. "All right, Mr. Riley, you've persuaded me to reveal my intentions behind the adoption. Will the process follow through?" he asked calmly and the attorney nodded, grinning. Layton relaxed in relief, reining in the joyous cry that wanted so badly to erupt from his mouth. This was neither the time nor place for such things, but he had done it. Luke's future was secured and he would be by the Professor's side always, just as he wished. Now, back to the matters at hand... "Well, if that is all, may I inquire as to the letter you spoke about?" he asked and Riley blinked before nodding grimly, pulling out a leaf of paper from another folder.

"A copy of this note was made for our records, but we made certain it was not read. It was left open, like this, with no seal or envelope." he told the Professor, handing the letter over, "And yet when I took it into my hand, I felt such a malevolence from it." He paused as if to consider something, then pressed on, looking up at the man with genuine concern, the ice-blue of his eyes growing dark with the emotion. "Are you in need of help, old friend?" he asked softly. Layton glanced over the words once, halted, then re-read the letter with a more disturbed expression, a mix of horror and anger flickering over his face before disappearing under the stony blank visage of a proper gentleman. "Professor Layton?" Riley called to him in growing concern, "Professor? Hesch?" The other man was gripping the letter so tightly, it was beginning to rumple and tear. "Hawk-Eye!" the attorney finally snapped and Layton jerked back to awareness, staring up at him in alarm, "What is the matter? What did it say?"

"I..." Layton began uncertainly, then frowned and shook his head, "It is nothing. Merely an childish prank to irritate me into losing my composure." He tore the letter to pieces calmly, though even the attorney could see the faint glimmer of hostility in the Professor's eyes that lingered on. "Thank you very much for all your help, Mr. Riley; I'd like to have the process completed as quickly as possible. Also, I should be returning to you shortly to have alterations made to my last will and testament to reflect this change." Layton added in a light tone that seemed out of place with the rest of his stance. He stood up, slipping the pieces of letter into his pocket while reaching out to shake hands with the attorney. "It was good seeing you again, Fidget. Perhaps we can talk of old times at a later date." he added more warmly. Riley managed a smile and nodded as Layton left the office. Once he was gone, the ginger attorney sat at his desk again and folded his hands together, resting his chin on them once more as he considered the situation.

Upon leaving the office, Layton noticed all four of his charges sitting at the bench in a different configuration than before he entered. Young Luke sat at one end, fiddling with his satchel and looking miserable. Flora, beside him, was rigid in posture, chin up in a defiant gesture and turned away from Penford in a manner suggesting that it was taking all her will power to not turn and slap him. Penford sat there by her, pallid and fearful, hands clutching his watch between them as he hunched forward over them, looking all the world like he was praying for salvation from it. Hershel sat at the other end of the bench, glaring at the world beyond it as if to dare the people around him to try getting close, unwilling to have another dose of rejection heaped upon him.

He sighed heavily. That picnic was sounding less and less feasible, but he'd made the plans and thus he'd better go through with them. Layton walked up to them and murmured that they could leave now, watching them all get up and begin making their way to the entrance. Penford stopped suddenly, then glanced back at Riley's office with an uncertain look, chewing on his lip in consideration. He turned back, took another step forward, then shut his eyes, tensing up rigidly. For a moment, Layton debated whether or not to ask him what he was up to right then and there, but he let it pass, deciding public places were unfit for such things.

"Bollocks." Penford finally muttered and turned back, walking briskly to the secretary as he pulled his notepad and pen from his pocket to write something down. Layton watched him tear the paper free and hand it to the woman, who looked puzzled, then nodded in agreement. Errand done, Penford strode back to join them, sending a faint glare in Layton's direction before turning away. "Let's go, Hershel. Our picnic awaits." he remarked stiffly and Hershel noticed the tone, looking up at him in surprise as his mentor exited the building, then in suspicion at Layton.

"I don't know what it is you're doing, but so far all I've seen you do is balls-up everything, so bugger off when it comes to Sir Luke!" the boy hissed, "And I don't care what he says about my future or whatever, I don't want to be you if this is who you are!" With that, he spun around and darted after the young man, chased by Young Luke as the other boy shook his fist in fury over the insults thrown at the Professor. Layton only sighed, shaking his head as he followed them out to the car.

For both Layton and the time-traveling Luke Penford, the contents of the letter remained fresh and disturbingly real in their minds as they made their way to the bakery to pick up the picnic lunch. In Layton's pocket, the letter remained in pieces to be burnt at the first possible opportunity. In Luke's pocket, the Time-Binder ticked away softly, both hands now resting on the fourth hour.

'To Professor Hershel Layton. I know what it is you are doing, and what it will do for you. I want that boy and you'll not stop me from having him. All the treasures you seek will be mine, and that boy will be the key to unlocking the greatest of them all. Stop what you are doing, or I'll be forced to take more permanent measures to obtain your apprentice.'

And elsewhere in the city, the future Don Paolo laughed cruelly at the stained watch in his hand, gloating over the closing of the third hour as his younger self growled for silence so he could continue his work.

"Ah, Professor, you will truly be lost quite soon now." the older man purred darkly, "By accelerating the events, I take away your control of them. And when all the pieces fall into place, you will live only to serve my whims. The pen-ultimate treasure of the Layton Family."


	23. Chapter 23

Picking up the picnic basket was almost a herculean effort in itself. Penford stood as far from Layton as possible, his thumb rubbing over his pocket-watch in agitation while the Professor paid for the reserved lunch. The older man sighed as he opened his wallet to gather the amount of money, pausing in confusion at the rumpled scrap of newspaper that was stuck inside. He didn't recall saving a newspaper clipping. Pulling it free, he slipped it into the pocket of his cloak for later examination.

"Could I have some cake too?" Hershel asked of his mentor, tugging eagerly on his hand with bright eyes. Penford blinked in surprise, then smirked at his young apprentice.

"Manners, Hershel." he reminded and the boy laughed sheepishly.

"I mean, may I please have some cake as well?" he amended and the young man seemed to consider it before finally pulling himself together and looking over at the eldest in the group.

"Professor, did you have any plans to include dessert with the lunch?" Penford asked and Layton looked momentarily surprised at the fact that his future apprentice spoke civilly to him since leaving the attorney's office, then smiled a bit more warmly.

"Why, the thought hadn't occurred to me, my boy." he replied and looked to his own charges, "Would you care for dessert as well, Luke? Flora?" Young Luke looked excited, throwing his arms up in the air as Flora lifted a finger to her lip in thought.

"Chocolate cake!" the boy exclaimed and Hershel scowled at him.

"I want strawberry shortcake!" he argued.

"They're rather decadent for a simple picnic." Flora commented slowly, a bit uncertain, "The sweetness might be a bit too much for the children."

"Why don't we settle for a few simple tarts? They work well for any situation." Penford commented casually, managing a thin smile at the Professor thanking him for the suggestion.

"We'll take a dozen fruit tarts as well, thank you." Layton told the woman at the counter as she set the basket up for him to take, "Luke, a little assistance with the lunch will be appreciated." The young apprentice trotted up to help carry the picnic basket, paused as he took it into his hands, then gave a happy yelp that caused the Professor to look down at him and the basket. The bakery had taken precaution to remind the staff who reserved the basket lunch, going so far as to burn a replica of the Layton Family Insignia into the lids. Layton blinked at it, then chuckled sheepishly.

"We'll be returning this once our picnic ends, if you don't mind. But I thank you for your consideration in marking the basket for everyone's peace of mind in regards to my reservation." he told the saleswoman, paying for the lunch and a bag of tarts. She simply smiled and chuckled behind her hand, waving her goodbyes as the group headed out to make their way to the park.

An uneasy sort of silence encompassed them once they entered the car and Flora felt confused by the eeriness of it all. It wasn't normal to see Layton and Luke both be so... distant, especially when she knew them both to be rather warm and friendly with one another, a happy student and his kind teacher. Sir Luke was well defended by his aloof and cold nature that pushed everyone away, including herself, which brought her a sharp pain that she didn't quite understand. Even young Hershel seemed to have withdrawn, glaring at his older self every now and then and huffing indignantly. At one point, he even glared at Luke with something very much akin to a young fury in his eyes before folding his arms over his chest and scowling out the window.

This wasn't looking to be the relaxing and peaceful picnic the Professor had hoped for.

The park was small and had several other families already there, along with a troupe rehearsing for an outdoor play. Hershel and Young Luke ran ahead to pick out a spot for the picnic, actually cooperating for once and agreeing upon a nice shady place under a grand tree that had a wonderful view of the park. Luke liked it for being so open and easy to run out into the sunshine once he had his fill of lunch; Hershel liked it for giving him full view of the park and the Laytonmobile, plus having a nice bit of cover should anything go wrong.

Penford carried the basket as Flora walked quietly beside Layton, fingering the handkerchief in her pocket as she worried over the young man's reactions to the insignia she had sewn in. From what she could recall on that horrid day, Sir Luke had gone rather pale at seeing the monogrammed 'L' in the blue cap and looked almost faint when she had explained that it stood for his name. It didn't quite make sense; why would he react so badly to his own name? She puzzled it over while Penford handed the basket to Layton so he could run up to the two young boys by the tree, who decided to call off their truce and set to wrestling on the grass again in their feud over their mentors.

"Why do you keep trying to murder one another?" the young man sighed in exasperation, pulling his past self off of Hershel as Young Luke managed one last kick to the other boy's back, shoving him back into the earth, "Luke! Stop that! Do you want to break the Professor's back?"

"He started it!" the blue-clad young apprentice shouted as he was dropped off by Layton. The Professor winced at his younger self's condition and gave Young Luke a stern look that he shied away from guiltily, which only made Layton look rather dispirited.

Between cleaning up a bloodied nose and getting everything set up for the picnic, the Professor and Penford both seemed to dance around whatever was bothering them with idle chatter of trivial things. It was awkward and rather petty, but the elder Luke didn't seem to be forthcoming in what was on his mind and Layton looked as though he was uncertain of where he stood in regards to either one of the two Lukes. Penford finally sighed in exasperation after yet another inquiry in what the weather was like in future London and stood up from the blanket.

"This is getting to be ridiculous." he muttered, pulling out his watch and clicking it open to check again. He frowned deeper and closed it, slipping it back into his pocket, "If no one minds, I'm going to go for a walk to clear my head. Hershel, stay here where it's safe." The young Layton jerked his head up from his puzzle book, eyes wide with alarm.

"But, Sir Luke! You need me with you so I can spot the bad man!" Hershel exclaimed and the young man shot him another glare.

"I can take care of myself, Hershel, I do carry a dagger for that reason. You will stay here and do your work. I won't be going that far away; it's a small park and a short walk." Penford returned sternly and left the group, giving Layton a vaguely disappointed look and shaking his head slightly as he went on his way. Hershel mumbled something under his breath, shoving the book aside as though losing all interest in the puzzles, and the elder Layton felt a chilling familiarity with what he had just witnessed before him.

He wore an orange sweater over a pressed white shirt and navy green tie, his satchel at his side as always. He had spent more time than necessary in front of his vanity, smoothing back his hair and scowling at that wretched little lock that refused to stay with the rest, hanging down by his temple and mocking him. There was the temptation to just take a pair of scissors to it, but no. His father would notice somehow and raise hell. Hershel Layton rolled his eyes and snorted, blowing out a puff of air that sent the tendril of hair to swaying and eventually poking his eye.

"Bloody...!" he griped, one hand flying up to rub at his injury as a sharp rapping came at the door, "I'm almost done, wait a blooming minute!" Perfect, perfect; he had to be at his very best today. Since he completed his studies in school, he was going on to be apprenticed to his father for the duration of his classes at the university. He picked out his finest casuals, polished his shoes, and rehearsed his acceptance speech. Well, to be honest, he had the maids pick out his finest casuals, with the occasional snort when he was presented with some article of clothing that didn't agree with him; he had a shoe shine boy brought in to polish his shoes and sat there, watching him so intently that the poor child nearly had a conniption when Hershel brought out his wallet to pay him; and then he rehearsed his speech so many times out of nervousness, he had to stop when he began dry-heaving at the mention of Harold's name.

And his hair decided to make him look like a complete dipstick today.

"I should rip you from my scalp by the roots!" Hershel fumed, shaking a fist at the reflection of his hair in the vanity as the door to his room opened and one of the maids entered. The young man blinked at the mirror, seeing her step in through the reflection, and turned to face her with a pout, "I said I was almost done, Catalina; you don't have to keep babying me." The elderly woman only smiled genially and picked up his top hat, a recent purchase made just for this day.

"You were about to ruin your nice hair." she told him and smoothed back the renegade tendril, slipping the brown silk hat on immediately after to hold it in place, "There. You look very handsome. You will make your papa proud." She clapped her thin hand against his cheek affectionately and Hershel couldn't help but smile back at her. "Hershel, such a good boy you are; very smart, very clever. You will go far in this life. I know this." Catalina confided warmly and bustled off to pick out his jacket, "You will do very well, and you will have many good things come to you! Good careers, good futures, good fortunes..." She pulled a simple brown cloak from his wardrobe and smiled coyly at him as she held it out towards Hershel, "Good woman to be good wife and mother. You will bring children in for me to look after, yes?" The 17-year-old rolled his eyes again, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he accepted the jacket and slipped it on.

"Catalina, this is a critical time for me. I must focus on my studies and be vigilant in my duties as a proper gentleman. That leaves no time to dally with the fairer sex." he declared primly and the elderly maid lifted an eyebrow, tapping her fingers against her mouth.

"And what will you do if a lady asks you for a bit of play, hmm? What then, Mr. Gentleman Layton?" she asked and Hershel grinned, a wide smile full of mischief as he chuckled, lifting his own hand to his chin in consideration.

"Well, a gentleman never refuses the request of a beautiful lady." he replied and winked as he picked up his satchel, slinging it over his shoulder, "I'd better hurry to the museum. Can't be late for my official apprenticeship!" He dropped a chaste kiss on Catalina's cheek and hurried off, waving back to her as an after-thought.

He made it to the museum in the nick of time, spending another few minutes in the lobby straightening his clothes and making sure his hair behaved itself under his hat before heading out to mingle with the crowd. University scholars and professors, students of various backgrounds, prominent officials; the feeling of elitism was heavy in the air and Hershel only just managed to avoid both wincing at the feeling and dipping his slender fingers into someone's waistcoat pocket to filch a few pounds for later. He'd been trying to wash his hands of his Hawk-Eye persona, but it clung stubbornly to him, lending him a strangely wily and graceful air that attracted quite a few eyes in his direction from the lady folk of London -and some from the men folk, disturbingly enough.

Luckily, he held onto his keen sight and ability to detect things and people that didn't quite belong or were up to no good, so Hershel swiftly moved through the crowd, evading the owners of those wandering eyes as he made quick small talk with various officials and scholars while looking for his father. Every man and woman he asked said the same thing to him; Professor Layton was in his office with the Director of the Historical Museum. And Hershel just knew that going near that door meant certain doom. Everyone knew that unspoken rule about him and that office.

Professor Layton was not a very nice gentleman when it came to being walked in on in his office.

But Hershel had spent most of the night working on his presentation thesis and wanted his father to look at it; it was in regards to a ruin he'd found and included evidence of the people's use of puzzles to decide arguments. His mother had read it over already and smiled her usual smile, declaring that the thesis was very original and would certainly bring more attention to the seriousness of puzzle-solving. Confidence bolstered by this, Hershel felt himself ready to bring it to his father's attention. So despite his developed thief's sense warning him fiercely to turn back before it was too late, the young Layton headed straight for Harold's office door, fully intent on knocking like any proper gentleman. He paused when he heard voices from beyond the partially opened door, and without really knowing why, he kept quiet and listened.

"Remarkable! Simply remarkable!" the Director remarked proudly, "Just imagine it! I'll have two Professor Laytons working with us soon enough!" Hershel felt a surge of emotion at that, brightening at the thought himself. How glorious it would be, to have the title of Professor and work alongside his father! That would make him so proud! "So," the Director went on and Hershel listened more eagerly, "How does it feel to be working with your son in only an hour or so, after he is made your apprentice?" There was a rustle of papers from Harold Layton's desk, no doubt from his last minute reviews.

"Son? Good sir, that is preposterous." Hershel heard his father say with a scoff, "I have no son in the field of archaeology."

And it was then that Hershel felt his entire world simply shatter to pieces. He backed away from the door in numb horror, eyes wide and filled with pain. All his efforts, all his work, the nights of toil and days of hardship, and his father... rejected him? Even declared he didn't exist in the same field as himself? Then... what had it all been for? He dropped his thesis, letting it slip from his fingers as a sob escaped him, then turned and fled from the office, running as fast as his legs could carry him. He pushed through the crowd of elites, ignoring their put-off cries. It all meant nothing; he had completely failed to please his father and earn his pride. He'd shed his life as Hawk-Eye for the chance to truly be loved by his father and failed miserably...

Layton snapped himself out of his thoughts, shaking his head clear of them. Luke had been calling his title for some time now and he'd been too far into his memories to acknowledge him.

"Ah, my apologies, Luke. What were you saying?" he murmured, uncertain as to how to feel about the boy now. Luke blinked up at him, then sighed almost resignedly, shaking his head as he got to his feet.

"It's nothing, Professor. I think I'll go for a walk as well." he replied and managed a smile, "Maybe I can catch up to Sir Penford and ask him a few questions. Perhaps find a hidden puzzle or two." He gave his mentor a hesitant wave, then hurried off to find his older self, leaving Layton behind to sigh as well and look over at his sullen younger self.

"I hope you don't grow up to be as moody as Penford." he remarked dryly and Hershel uttered a short laugh, stripping off his little brown jacket to keep cool, remaining in a white shirt and brown vest.

"Doubt it, Layton." the boy returned and reached for a tart.

Luke hurried along, trying to keep the figure in blue ahead of him in sight. He hadn't realized just how quickly he could move until he had to step into the Professor's shoes for once and try keeping up with himself -future self. He probably could have kept better pace had he not kept spotting all the hidden puzzles scattered around himself in the park, little sparks of curiosity that seemed to just jump at his eyes from all over the place. At one point, he stopped and rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear his vision, then yelped as he was bumped into by someone.

"Oh, dreadfully sorry! James, apologize to the boy." a woman remarked sternly to a boy at her side. The boy mumbled an apology to Luke and he watched as he and the woman hurried along to meet with a gentleman nearby. Obviously a family out on a picnic of their own; Luke felt a sharp pang as he watched them leave. He barely remembered his own parents, only knew that he had them at one point but they both died when he was only a year or so old. Luke had no family left and thought of the Professor as a replacement father, a parent to take the place of the ones he'd lost so long ago.

And now it seemed as if things were moving to separate them, and Luke would lose his family all over again. Fighting back a sob, he rushed onward to find Penford. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince his elder self to go back in time a little further, just a little, and save their parents. Then he wouldn't be a burden to the Professor and he would have his family.

"He's quite intelligent, yes. Seems to do quite well in science and math, has a little trouble with history but I'm sure the Professor can see to that." the headmistress remarked to her colleague, gesturing towards the roomful of boys and girls but Luke knew they were talking about him. He shivered slightly at the mention of a 'Professor'; it didn't sound like a pleasant thing. Was he going to be punished for being behind in his history lessons? This orphanage took in children that were of good quality breeding, with potential in arts and sciences, and sent them off to be taken in as apprentices in various institutions. Unless they were found to be sorely lacking, in which case they were sold to the working class as disappointments and failures. Luke always tried to keep up his pace to avoid such a fate. Surely he would be found worthy of an institute of science one day, and perhaps find out what had happened to put him in this lonely life.

Would this 'Professor' be the thing to dash all his hopes?

"The Professor will be expecting him to arrive promptly at two o'clock tomorrow afternoon for a personal confirmation of his skills. What are we to do about the other interested party? They certainly fit with his strengths and he'd do far better with them." the headmistress's companion questioned, his brows furrowed together uncertainly. The woman scoffed, waving her hand flippantly at the mention of another person.

"Absolutely not. They didn't fill out the forms all that properly anyway. Besides, would you want to be the one to say 'no' to the Great Professor?" she retorted, "We'd be ruined by the gossip within an hour! No, no; we're giving him to the Professor and that will be that." Luke frowned slightly; science was his strongest subject. All the children sent into institutions that fitted their strengths did very well, and returned each day to the orphanage with smug grins and puffed chests, always rubbing their exploits into the faces of the younger children, the ones not yet ready for apprenticeship, like Luke had been until his eighth birthday. Why were they going to send him into apprenticeship with someone in his weakest subject?

"'Ey!" one of the other boys called rudely, shoving Luke from behind so he fumbled with his pencil and scrawled over his worksheet, "You think you's gonna be better than us, 'cuz you's getting apprenticed to that Professor? Bull!" Another shove sent him tumbling out of his seat.

"Bugger off! I don't even know who this Professah bloke is!" Luke snapped back, picking himself off the floor and snatching up his paper, "Just leave me alone!" He started walking off to find another secluded spot in which to work, but the other orphans followed, teasing and taunting all the while.

"Doesn't even know who it is that wants to take him in as an apprentice! Already bumbling at the job; I give 'im two days before he gets sent back 'ere and the mistress decides to sell 'im to the workhouse! I don't see why I wasn't picked for the Professor to take as an apprentice; I'm so much better at history than Luke!" they ribbed and Luke blinked back tears, barely able to focus on the puzzle worksheet in his hands.

The next day, he picked up his satchel, ignored still more jabs from the other boys, and began making his way to the taxi that would take him to the Professor's office. One of the orphans, on his way to the carriage that would take him to the institution where he studied, called out to Luke for a final stab.

"If you do anything that messes up your chance with Professor Layton, the headmistress will be so embarrassed, she's going to sell you to the factories as a scullery boy! Hope you studied up on your history; he's an archaeologist and the pride of London!" the older boy taunted and entered the carriage in laughter. Luke gripped his satchel tightly as he boarded the taxi, mind already filling with horrors. He couldn't let that happen! He'd just have to be the very best apprentice he could be to this Professor Layton person. Whatever he taught, Luke would learn and he would study until his eyes rebelled!

By the time he was brought to the small building where the Professor had his office, Luke had already steeled himself for the dictator he imagined his new mentor to be. He walked stiffly to the door, stared in confusion at the top hat that decorated the glass, then shook himself off and knocked firmly. It opened after a few moments and Luke stared up for the first time at the man called Professor Layton. Layton blinked back at him, then smiled warmly.

"You must be Luke Penford; come on in, my boy, you're just in time for tea." he invited and Luke wasn't entirely sure what it was about the man that made him suddenly feel relaxed and safe, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He stepped into the office, glancing around in awe at the piles of paperwork, maps, globes and various old trinkets and stones lining the shelves on the walls and in display cases. It was like stepping into a secret little room in a museum. When Luke was offered a seat on the little sofa, he sat down as carefully as he could while the Professor poured tea for them both. "My name is Hershel Layton; pleased to meet you." the older man remarked, setting the teapot aside. Luke echoed the greeting, still glancing around from time to time out of curiosity. The Professor smiled and gestured around the room. "From what you can see of my office, I am a professor of archaeology and so I will be teaching you how to assist me in my research of the ancient world. You already seem rather interested in the subject, if I may add." he chuckled.

"Ah, yes, sir. I will learn all I can and do my best for you, sir." Luke replied, trying to keep his uncertainty out of his tone, picking up the teacup in both hands and slurping some of the liquid to soothe his dry throat. Layton watched him with a slight downward twitch of his mouth.

"I am also a gentleman, and I believe you may benefit a great deal in learning to be one as well." he added, reaching out to reorient the teacup in Luke's hands, "Like this, my boy, and sip, don't slurp." Luke gulped, hands shaking nervously as he tried to take a sip, still managing to slurp noisily at the tea. The Professor gave him a weak but polite smile. "Well, it does take some getting used to; we'll work on that some more at another time." he relented and reached for a wooden curio sitting on the desk, "Now, Luke, take a look at this and tell me what you make of it." He held it out and Luke set the cup down, rubbing his hands against his shorts before taking the curio and tuning out the soft, exasperated sigh Layton issued at his 'cleaning'.

"It looks like some kind of puzzle, sir." Luke finally said, fingers already working at moving the pieces on it, "I bet I could solve it if I..." He fell silent then, concentrating on undoing the puzzle bit by bit as the Professor watched him with a gentle smile. It took a few minutes and some mistakes, but the boy finally held out the curio with a laugh, "There! I solved it!" Luke grinned even more broadly when Layton clapped his hands in approval.

"Well done, my boy! Puzzles are my passion, you see, and they make the world a mysterious and beautiful place." the man told him, "As my apprentice, I will teach you how to assist me in my archaeological research, how to be a gentleman of utmost quality, and most of all, how to appreciate a good puzzle. You'll learn critical thinking and gain a sharp eye for puzzles." Luke looked up at him excitedly, his earlier nervousness and fears melting away; he could do this, he could learn to be a solver of puzzles as well!

"Yes, sir!" he chirped brightly and Layton chuckled softly, warmly, tipping his top hat back with a wink.

"Call me Professor, my boy. You are my student now, as well as my apprentice." he remarked, "Shall we get started then? This is my working office; the majority of my puzzles are in my home office." He stood and led Luke to the door. "We'll take my car to my home and we'll begin with a few puzzles to see where your mental strengths lie. Perhaps we can fit in a few gentlemanly lessons as well."

"Right away, Professah!" Luke exclaimed eagerly, bounding after him in better spirits.

 

Luke shook his head clear of the memories, smiling ruefully at them. After that, he began taking more pride in his apprenticeship with the Professor, and loved his puzzle-solving lessons most of all. Science and math didn't matter as much as they used to, and history became more interesting, now that he knew some of those challenging puzzles and riddles dated back thousands of years. The lessons on gentlemanly duty were something he wasn't as enthused about, but if learning them made the Professor that much happier with him and prouder of him, then he would gladly suffer through the rituals of learning etiquette and manners and all that nonsense. He even struggled to pronounce his title properly, 'Professor' instead of 'Professah' as the effort to say the last syllable seemed to make him beam all the more warmly.

But somewhere along the way, Luke must have failed somehow, and thus the Professor was securing his future elsewhere. Maybe in something involving science of one kind or another, since Penford came traveling through time to follow them for some peculiar reason, trying to prevent an event from happening that shouldn't have happened. Luke puzzled over that for a moment. Perhaps Penford was trying to prevent the termination of his apprenticeship? He would try asking. The young man had finally stopped and sat on a bench, fiddling with his pocket-watch again. Sighing in relief, Luke hurried to join him, waving a hand to gain his attention.

"Penford!" he cried, "I want to talk to you!" And his older self looked up at him in surprise, hands clapping the watch shut again.

Hershel sighed in irritation as he flicked blades of grass off his shorts. Flora had already gone with the Professor in search of a powder room and he was left to guard the picnic blanket and basket on his own. This whole day had been a crock in his thinking, and he'd give anything to relieve some tension by going off to play with the Gutter Valley Boys. He scanned the park over quickly to double check on the people around him, making sure none of them were that creepy old man or the creepier young bloke, then leaned back against the tree trunk with another sigh. If only Sir Luke would come back, then they could go somewhere else for a while together, just the two of them, like they used to do. Things were so much nicer in the past, and he didn't have to worry about this pudgy old man calling himself Professor Layton mucking things up and making Sir Luke so sad and bitter all the time.

That's why he was there; to help Sir Luke in his mission and keep him from being so bloody grim and depressed about everything! Hershel folded his arms over his chest in a huff, hair messy from being blown about by the wind since he'd set his little top hat down for the time being. What good was being a Layton if he couldn't do the things he loved and help those he cared about? He'd much rather remain as Hawk-Eye and have all the fun he wanted that way. His gaze dropped to his shoes, a small frown crossing his mouth. But if he did that, then he wouldn't have any chance at making his father proud of him. He wanted to be a great archaeologist, too, so his father would beam at him the same way this future version of himself beamed at Young Luke, so full of pride and love.

Why was it so hard to decide on his future? If he stayed as Hawk-Eye, he would be able to hone his skills and be a force to be feared on the streets of London. But he would eventually lose touch with his mother and father, and Professor Layton, Harold Layton, would never be proud of him. Give up Hawk-Eye to follow his father and he'd eventually become this weak old bloke that could be snuck up on at any time. How embarrassing! Hershel rubbed his hair furiously, trying to choose between the two fates before deciding he'd deal with it later. Now was not the time to worry about his own future; he had to look after Sir Luke and make sure he wasn't attacked by those strange men again!

"Penford's apprentice will save the day!" he declared suddenly, thrusting a finger into the air proudly before sitting back against the tree again, a grin on his face. He would do all he could to help Sir Luke; after all, that was the whole reason why he'd run away from home to begin with.

He had run to his room as soon as he was let down from his mother's arms. From there, Hershel raced to the window and threw aside the curtains, watching in tears as Sir Luke walked down the driveway, past the fountain that nearly gave the boy another conniption, and then to the front gate. Once he reached it, there was a little burst of light and Hershel could see the young man mount the magic scooter that had appeared, then drive off until he was out of sight.

Sobbing bitterly, the boy turned and threw himself onto his bed, feeling a keen sense of loneliness settle over him. It wasn't fair; he only had his mentor for a week and now he was gone, off to save some other boy. What about him? Didn't he deserve to be saved too? Saved from this dull and tedious existence of trying so hard to be everything that could make his father proud of him? Sir Luke was a different person from Harold Layton; he seemed to be proud of Hershel no matter what he did, always smiling at him when he thought Hershel wasn't looking. And if he solved a puzzle or remembered a gentlemanly lesson, Sir Luke just about shone as bright as the sun with pride. Why couldn't his own father be like that?

And why couldn't he keep his mentor around so that he could feel more fulfilled, knowing that at least one person besides his mother would be so proud of him when he did something he loved to do? Was that other boy more important?

"He-he wants to save the other one... because they really need his help." Hershel sniffled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes dry of tears, "A gentleman helps those around him who are in need. Because, that's what a gentleman does." And if Sir Luke was going away to help someone, then as a young gentleman-in-training Hershel had to help him too. He slid off the bed, then headed for his satchel, dumping its contents out onto the bed. Of that, he repacked his puzzle book, some paper and a pencil, then began stuffing some clothes into the bag. Just for a couple of days, at least; if he needed more, he was confident that Sir Luke could purchase more for him. He paid for so many other things for him already, surely his mentor was just as wealthy as the Layton Family and only traveled far more modestly than most people in his class!

Hershel took another piece of paper and a fresh pencil, then wrote a short note for his parents, so they wouldn't do anything bothersome like call a constable or a truancy officer to fetch him later. He explained what he was going to do, where he was going, and added that everything would be just fine since he would be with Sir Luke the whole trip. The matter would probably be resolved in a few days and they would be coming back together and everything would be fine. Hershel signed his name and headed off to pull the sheets from his bed, twisting and knotting them up until they were formed into a rudimentary rope ladder. He tied one end to his bedpost, opened the window, and threw the rest out until it hung just above the ground. Satisfied with his preparations, Hershel pulled on his coat, fixed his top hat in place, slung on his satchel, then began descending his makeshift ladder. Those lessons on sneaking out were really paying off!

He found Sir Luke entering the alley by the Museum of Science and rushed to catch up, huffing as he held his satchel's strap in place and his hat down on his head. He rounded the corner just as his mentor stood in the alley, his back facing the street.

"I'm coming with you!" Hershel shouted as a surprise greeting, lunging at him to give him a hug, excited to be a part of Sir Luke's rescue mission. He was certainly surprised, spinning around and staring at him like he'd seen a specter of the night. Sir Luke cried something about his watch and traveling through time, Hershel couldn't exactly remember because this strange light seemed to pass over them both and then there was this ungodly painful sensation of something that felt like burning. On his skin and in his body, just this awful, awful burning and he screamed, hanging on tight to Sir Luke's jacket and his mentor had grabbed onto him, crying out too, and then it all blurred and that was that.

Hershel huffed again, watching his supposed older self returning to the picnic spot with Flora at his side. And that was how he wound up dragged into the future on a mission to help Sir Luke's younger self escape some fate. He just couldn't grasp how that snotty little urchin that fawned over this time period's Professor Layton could possibly become the refined gentleman that was Sir Luke. It was just ridiculous and completely unfair! That Luke boy was nowhere near the same level in skill and gentlemanly behavior as Hershel, and yet that Layton bloke seemed to just adore the little runt. Why couldn't his own father be like that?

"Not fair." he muttered and took another tart. Sir Luke was acting all out of sorts because of him, too. He used to have all kinds of interesting puzzles and stories and lessons to teach him, and ever since they got to this time and started living with this lot, he'd stopped doing any of that. All his attention went straight to the older man. Hershel had to make do with the Flora girl and the younger Luke for companionship, and he wasn't happy with either one. "Layton." he called once the two of them arrived and settled down again, "If you're an archaeologist and everything, does that mean that Father is proud of us? Since you've become everything he wanted you to be, which is everything I quite dislike, he must be as puffed up as a peacock."

The older man stiffened and gave him an impassive expression, all emotion wiped clean from his face. Hershel lifted an eyebrow, whistling at the action. That was impressive; he could tell a hundred lies with a face like that and earn a fortune in games of bluff and trickery.

"That, my dear boy, is something you are not privileged to know of yet." Layton told him firmly and picked up his cup of tea, "Now put your coat back on and do fix your hair a little; you look like a ruffian, sitting like that and with that air of insolence about you."

"How dare you tell me how to act!" Hershel growled back, "Look at you, all pompous and self-important; you act just like my father and I hate it! You went and gave up who you were to become someone we both despise; a bloody wanker!" He jumped at the abrupt clatter of teacup on saucer, but stayed put, scowling at the stern look coming from the elder man. Flora had covered her ears again, staring with wide shocked eyes at him.

"We do not use that kind of language, young man, especially in front of a lady!" Layton lectured firmly, "I refuse to believe that you would disregard the lessons of your mentor in his absence; I know that Luke wouldn't do the same if I were to be indisposed for any reason." Hershel huffed, shrugging his shoulders indifferently.

"Well, we won't ever know that, then, seeing as how you being the great and noble Professor Layton means you'll always be around to coddle your little urchin. Wonder how he'd be if you up and vanished on him one day?" he questioned and the Professor turned away from him, shaking his head.

"I believe in Luke's ability to continue to be a gentleman whether I am there or not. I know he'll do the proper thing and continue his studies, especially now that I've secured his future." he murmured and his hand went to his pocket, "If something should happen to me, and God forbid that to occur, then I am confident that Luke would press forward with honor and nobility. He would look to the future and hold the memories of the past to treasure the present, because that's what a gentleman should do." Hershel listened to his words, then slowly let a smile spread over his face, eyes closing halfway in a smug expression.

"If you're so confident that he'd move forward and not look back, then what's Sir Luke doing in the past, clinging to you like a lost puppy?" he mused aloud and Layton looked puzzled, truly baffled for the first time that day.

"I have no idea, but it must have something to do with how I am securing his future. Why else would he take such an interest in my work and claim to be called Penford?" he wondered. Flora blinked at him and gasped, batting her eyes rapidly before digging around in her pocket for the handkerchief.

"Professor, may it have something to do with this? Sir Penford seemed to go quite pale when I first showed him this and told him I stitched the initial of his name into it." she remarked, holding up the folded cloth for Layton to examine. Hershel perked up in interest, crawling forward to see for himself as the elder man accepted it and opened it to reveal the blue cap and gold lettering. Both of them took on surprised expressions, looking at one another briefly before returning to gaze at the embroidery.

"It's almost like the Layton Insignia, but with Sir Luke's cap instead of the top hat." Hershel remarked in wonder, "Like his version of the Layton Family symbol. Why would he turn pale at the sight of it? He should be honored to carry this as a sign of employment by the Laytons!" The elder man groaned softly, one hand lifting to cover his eyes.

"My word, this confirms my suspicions." he whispered and suddenly pulled his hand away in alarm, "Where is Luke? And Penford?"

"They haven't come back from their walks." Hershel replied, standing up and brushing himself off, "We'd better find them, before those old blokes decide to pop in and cause trouble." They hurriedly collected their things and packed up the picnic basket before setting off at a brisk pace to find the two Lukes.

"...so, I'm not even certain that I'll be with the Professor much longer and all I really want is to be with someone who loves me for me, to be in a family again!" Young Luke finished his rambling in a breathless rush, "So, if it's possible, could you go back a little further in time and find out what happened to our parents, and maybe even save them?" Luke closed his eyes with a sigh and shook his head in the negative. "Eh? But why?"

"All events are connected, Luke, like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. If you alter any of the pieces, the end picture changes and some pieces even become obsolete." Luke explained cautiously, turning the Time-Binder in his hands as the boy beside him pulled his legs up in dejection, "Or better yet, like the tracks laid down for a train to run on. Each event is a switch and Time is the main line of tracks. When you change an event, you switch a track and history is the train that runs on those tracks, so you alter the course of history when you change an event. Understand?"

"But you're changing things around already, aren't you?" Young Luke pointed out, "I don't see why it would matter if you changed a switch further back on the track." The young man pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering how best to describe things without compromising himself.

"All right, Luke, let's go back to the idea of trains and tracks. Time is the track laid down for history, which is the train, and all the switches that control where the train goes are major historical events. All I've done so far is watch the switches flip from my seat in the train. I'm a passenger on that train, just like you and Hershel and Flora and the Professor." he tried again, speaking slowly and surely, "If anything has changed, it's been something I didn't do myself and the train only picks up speed or slows down because of the alteration of the event. The event still happened but our train only reached the switch to the track earlier or later than scheduled. The switch did not flip the other way.

"If I were to go back to the time our parents lived, and changed the events to allow them to continue living, then a major switch would be turned another way and the train that is our history would run on another line of tracks, with different passengers. It would be you, your mother, and your father. Do you see what is missing now?" Young Luke gasped, staring up at his elder self.

"Where's the Professor and Flora? Where are you and Hershel?" he blurted out worriedly. Luke shrugged.

"You would never meet." he remarked simply, bluntly, "Because you would have your parents, there would be no reason to have you sent to an orphanage, which is where Professor Layton eventually discovered you and made you his apprentice. And being the son of the Penfords, you would be raised to be a scientist like them; you would have no need of archaeology or puzzles, so you would have no reason to seek out the Professor yourself. So you would not be there if and when the Professor rescued Flora." Luke held the Time-Binder up by its fob, watching it spin slowly and sparkle in the sunlight. "And if you never became the Professor's apprentice, then I would have no reason to come from the future, because my only reason to be here is to observe him, and if I don't travel through time, I would never run into Hershel and have him travel with me." he added, "So many other events lost because I changed one event. Do you see how troublesome time travel can be? And how dangerous it is to alter events that should not be changed?"

Young Luke nodded slowly, still looking saddened by that. Luke hesitated a moment, then reached out and pulled him close for an awkward hug, patting him on the shoulder.

"Change one event, and our whole life is changed drastically. And for the life of me I can't decide whether that change is for the better or worse." the boy murmured, leaning into his elder self for support, "Would it be best to alter the past so I can have my family, or leave them to remain dead so I can have these two years I've spent with the Professor and these few months with Flora in our house? Penford, which would you choose?" Luke looked down at him, then up at the rest of the park, uttering a soft, tired sigh.

"Which would I choose, if I were to alter the course of Time and history?" he echoed, "That question is one that is not easily asked, nor easily answered. But it is one that I had asked myself when I first began preparing for this trip." He closed his eyes, thinking back on his last few days in the future before he took the Time-Binder and made the jump with the help of one of his staff members, the researcher who ultimately betrayed him in some way.

The laboratory was deathly silent and dark when Luke and his assistant hurried inside, resisting the urges to flip on the lights and relying on battery-operated torches to make their way to the Temporal Slipstream Device. It had been several months since the devices were completed, tested, and deemed successes, during which there had been a flurry of activity from the Ministry of Defense in setting everything up to act as though his time travel research was a dead end and to disavow any information that cropped up to claim the Queen knew of Luke's research and helped fund the development of time travel technology. So much work was put into hushing all mouths that knew anything about the Time-Binder, the Slipstream Device, or any of the quantum theories Luke had written out that proved time travel was possible that the world in general began to whole-heartedly believe that the stories of London's young Professor investigating the grand puzzle of Time itself were little more than drunk men's rumors.  
After all that, Luke's Quantum Lab 4 became England's version of America's Area 51, a non-existent building housing non-existent technology for leaping through time and mucking with the past and future... which was simply perfect for Luke's plans. He had been given audience with the Queen Herself in regards to his technology, and she had told him that for all intents and purposes, his research and his inventions were fruitless efforts and would be written as complete failures, a mark that would smudge his family name but would be publicly cleared by her will once things had settled down in the Ministry of Defense. He accepted those terms. After that had been made clear and the papers were given word to print the story of his wasted research, the Queen summoned him again and Luke was asked to explain what exactly he meant to do with his technology.

"Alter a single event, so London will have its light returned as bright as ever." he had replied seriously, grimly, "The death of Professor Hershel Layton should not have taken place, and it is my sole mission to go into history and change the outcome of that singular day, thus preventing the loss of one of our most brilliant men."

"Your research claims that all events are connected, Professor." the Queen had murmured quietly, gazing at him from her desk in her study, "The death of your mentor is what drove you to become who you are now. If that should change, what would become of you?"

"I would cease to exist, Your Majesty." Luke returned honestly, still kneeling before her in respect, "Without his death, I would have no reason to create the ability to time travel, and thus I, as the quantum engineer, would have no cause to exist. Quite simply, I will be erased from Time." The Queen tilted her head in consideration.

"We would like to ask you, Professor, if this is truly what you wish to do with your life. Given the choice to have Professor Hershel Layton returned in exchange for your life, and leaving history as it is written to continue working for the benefits of your fellow man in his honor, which would you take?" she asked and Luke closed his eyes with a smile.

"Your Majesty, my choice was made when I decided to invest my skills and efforts in creating my technology. Success would mean a better life for us all, and only my life is paid as the price. Failure would mean I was not skilled nor worthy enough to carry his name, and thus my life is forfeit anyway." he replied and finally looked up at the elderly woman, "I plan to travel tonight, with the aid of an assistant to operate the main device and open the gate through Time." The Queen only gazed down at him, silent for a long moment before she finally gave a subtle nod.

"You have our blessing on your endeavor, and may God have mercy on your soul as you make your journey. You will be tampering with His workings, and only by His Grace will you succeed or fail." she told him quietly, "And as you have told us, either way, your life is forfeit. It shall be written that, on this night, Professor Layton passed away, leaving no trace to be found. The estate will be taken in and divided at our discretion."

"As you wish, Your Majesty. Thank you for your blessing." Luke murmured and left once the Queen dismissed him.

Straight after that, Luke made his way into the laboratory with one of the scientists, wrinkling his nose at the smell of smoke that surrounded him. He wasn't fond of the smell, but half his staff smoked to relieve stress that was usually caused by his 'punishments' so he couldn't really complain about it. The older man went to the Slipstream Device and began working its control mechanisms, tapping at the keys to bring it to power and get everything operational. Luke made for the platform near it, his hand already reaching into his jacket pocket to grab onto the Time-Binder.

"Program the Binder with the data in the file marked as 'Magnum Opus'." he ordered the scientist, "And tell no one that I have done this. Keep the Device running through the night; you will know the sign when I no longer need it active."

"Yes, Professor!" the man declared, eyes on his work as he tapped at keys. Luke scowled at the title as he brought the pocket-watch out and readied himself for the jump. He disliked being called that; after all, he didn't really deserve the title. But he would let it slide this time. Once Luke stepped into the past, none of this would matter anymore.

He would save the one true Professor Layton, or he would die trying. He had already said his goodbyes to his colleagues and employees, and Nazolene had cried when he admitted that he couldn't continue his relationship with her. His heart simply wasn't in it and he wouldn't be around much longer anyway.

"Which would I choose?" Luke whispered as he gripped the Time-Binder, watching the soft blue light travel from it and over his body, "Here's my answer..."

"I chose my family. The one I've always known; the Professor and Flora." Luke finally answered casually, "And thus here I am, watching over all of you. Simple, really." Young Luke gave him a puzzled look as Layton, Hershel, and Flora hurried up the path to join them.

"There you are!" the Professor exclaimed in relief, "Good heavens, you two, don't leave me to worry like that, especially with two Don Paolos on the loose!" Hershel darted up and leaped into Luke's arms, laughing brightly.

"I spotted you first, Sir Luke! Do I get a prize?" he asked and grinned broadly when his mentor smiled back at him.

"You get a puzzle, Hershel, how's that?" Luke replied and set the boy down, standing up and giving the Professor a glance to check on his condition, "How about a puzzle involving a cat and a mouse?"

"I'm sorry, Professor; I didn't mean to worry you." Young Luke mumbled as he joined his own mentor. Layton settled his hand on the boy's head, giving him a gentle smile.

"It's all right, Luke. Your safety and well-being was foremost in my mind. I just want to keep you and Flora safe." he remarked and his hand went to his pocket again, a vaguely dark expression flitting across his face too quickly to be caught by his apprentice's eyes. It did not go unnoticed by the elder Luke though. "Safety... hmm... I believe I shall have some work done to the house tomorrow. To have things tidied up and a little safer for us all; I do believe I've held off on it long enough." Flora and Young Luke blinked at him in surprise and the boy seemed to brighten in understanding.

"Oh, you're going to change the locks too? Like Penford said you would?" he asked eagerly and Layton gave the young man a surprised look as he nodded, "Blimey, he really does know all the things that's going to happen! I bet that's one of those event switch things he was talking about!" He cheered and began making his way to the Laytonmobile, challenging Hershel to a race that the other boy quickly accepted, darting after him in a hurry.

"Event switches?" Layton asked of Luke as they walked back at a more leisurely pace, Flora at the elder man's other side, "Would they have anything to do with the hours of your watch, Penford?" The young man gave him a small smile, slipping the Time-Binder back into his pocket.

"You'll just have to solve that puzzle on your own time, Professor." he remarked cryptically, "I merely observe the events; I have no desire to alter them now." Layton lifted an eyebrow at his words.

"But you do intend to alter them later, correct?" he questioned and Luke waved a hand flippantly at the inquiry.

"Oh, just one little change later on in time, Professor! You probably won't even notice it, you'll be far too busy with certain matters." he answered carelessly, "Now let's head back and return that basket, shall we? Mustn't keep Time held up over trivial pursuits when there are grander things in this world to tend to!"

"And what made you decide to stalk the boy through Time in the first place?" Don Paolo grumbled, turning the silver dagger over in his hand. The elder Don reclined in his chair, fingering the stained pocket-watch he kept on his person at all times. A broad grin broke out on his face at the question.

"Would you believe a note from an alternate future?" he returned and chuckled at the other man's incredulous stare, "I received a letter one day, simply out of the blue, that explained just how valuable that little apprentice could be to us. All I had to do was bide my time until a certain event came to pass, then steal this little watch for my use. I had all the information I needed from that note to enter a special laboratory, get the watch, and jump through time to begin preparing for the next phase."

"And the next phase would be what exactly?" Don Paolo went on, examining the dagger more closely and wondering how much money each of the stones was worth.

"My past self of this time, your future self, would sabotage certain devices to send the boy into a different time, thus allowing me to set up the events that would help shape the future I desire, including the loss of my Bind Rifle, built for this sole purpose." the elder Don replied and traced his fingertip down the scar on his face, "The future I came from, as explained by the note, should not have existed, as the boy took far too long to develop his technology to be of any use. So I saw no reason not to end his life then and there, though he left me this pleasant little reminder that he existed at one point. As it just so happened, the letter also told me that a certain function of this little gadget would only work if it made contact with his DNA, so..." He gestured towards the watch and Don Paolo grimaced in disgust.

"And who exactly sent you this note, detailing a plan to subjugate a brat to us?" he muttered, pulling his eyes from the rust-colored smears to glare at his elder self, who only shrugged in a carefree manner.

"No blooming idea, and I really don't care. All that matters is gaining control of the boy." Maestro replied and narrowed his eyes, gripping the armrests tightly, "He is the last living Penford, after all." Don Paolo nearly dropped the dagger in shock, eyes widening.

"So... you know his identity as well... and of her..." he breathed almost reverently, "Lenora..." Maestro nodded and the younger Don smiled maliciously, gripping the dagger all the more tightly. "Layton foiled my plan to have the boy and earned my undying wrath, but mark my words, I'll have my revenge! All the treasures he seeks, all that he cares for; it will all belong to me!" he declared hotly, shaking a hand into the air as he laughed maniacally. The elder Don only grinned, steepling his fingertips together.

"And quite soon, the Layton line will bow to my command as well." he purred darkly.


	24. Chapter 24

Luke lifted the silver rapier in his hand, pointing it the Professor with a grim smile on his face. Flora sat to one side, her hands covering her mouth and her eyes wide as Layton drew his own rapier and slid into a defensive stance.

"I've dreamed of this moment, Professor. The chance to face you like this... don't hold back! En guarde!" the young man declared and attacked suddenly. Layton parried the blow, evading and striking back. Metal crashed on metal as the two men dueled fiercely, moving all over the rear garden as the locksmith tended to the doors of the Layton household. Young Luke cheered on his mentor while Flora oohed and ahhed and winced at every move, strike and miss.

Finally, the duel came to an end when Layton struck the rapier from Luke's hand and pointed the tip of his own weapon to the younger man's neck. Luke froze, then managed a crooked grin.

"I suspected as much." he remarked and chuckled as the Professor withdrew the blade and sheathed it, reaching over to pick up the fallen rapier, "Thank you for the practice. It seems as though I'm not anywhere near your caliber yet, Professor."

"You weren't as bad as you think you are, Penford." the elder man returned with a smile, handing him the rapier to sheath, "Though it may not be my field of expertise, I do know a few things about fencing and I'm glad to be able to share them with you." Luke flinched slightly as he handed the sword back. "For personal future reference, I should increase our practice sessions when Young Luke gets to be your age. That should be adequate for any demonstrations you may wish to hold."

"Ah... yes. Thank you... very much..." Luke trailed uncomfortably and looked around for another subject, "Where is Hershel? I haven't seen him since the locksmith arrived." His younger self snorted, rolling his eyes at the mention of the other Layton and pointing towards the street.

"The bugger ran off a while ago. Said he wanted to talk to some friends he knows." Young Luke answered, "Seeing as how he's not from here, in a manner of speaking, I would think he's looking for more of those other street boys." Luke blinked at him, startled, then groaned softly and pulled one hand down over his face.

"Hershel Layton, whatever am I to do with you?" he muttered, "Precocious little twerp..."

Finding other members of the Gutter Valley Boys wasn't all that hard; not when Hershel knew the most likely places to spot them. He explored the market streets, watching the food stands as he strolled along, wearing his top hat and coat as usual. Staying at the little brownstone while the locksmith worked on the doors and Sir Luke practiced fencing with the older Layton didn't seem that fun for him. And if he was going to help with his mentor's mission so that Sir Luke could go back with him, then Hershel would have to work at things his own way.

There! He spotted a young girl collapse into a faint near a fruit stand, drawing the attentions of concerned people as the stand-owner hurried over to check on her. Waiting in the shadows for this chance, a pair of boys emerged and hurriedly collected as much fruit as they could fit into their pockets and sacks before retreating into the alleys. Hershel stood and watched with a smile as the girl quickly recovered and scampered off laughingly. Well, no sense in wasting more time. The young Layton darted off to give chase, following the girl into the alleys to meet with the rest of her little entourage.

And it was while he was scampering after those three that Hershel spotted the first clue that these 'future' Gutter Valley Boys were of a different breed than what he knew in his own time. A glint of metal, spotted just on the edge of his vision, and the young Layton yelped, ducking under the surprise attack as his hat remained hovering for a split second. While his attacker skidded past him, arms flailing at the miss, Hershel reached up and snatched his top hat back down, planting it on his head as he continued on in a panic.

"Waaaah! Pa-parah! PA-PARAH!" he yelled frantically, "What in blazes are you doing? Stop! Stop!"

"Oi! 'Ey! Dat's Hawk-Eye! Knock it off, Diggins!" a familiar voice shouted as Hershel ran into a small empty lot, tripping and tumbling head over heels into the dust. He lay there for only a moment before twisting around and clambering to his feet, eyes darting around quickly to take in the figures of the other children he'd been following now running towards him. He uttered a small gasp of surprise, recognizing the two boys that had snatched up so many fruits.

"Rattik! Duke!" Hershel exclaimed, straightening as another young boy hurried into the lot, a small knife clutched in one hand while the other rubbed at his dripping nose.

"Waaah! Rattik, I'm soooowwy! I wet da bwoke get away!" the child cried pitifully, pointing the knife at Hershel as though accusing him of the crime of not getting stabbed. Rattik blinked at the two boys, then laughed heartily, walking up to rub his head affectionately.

"It's all right, Diggins! Dat be Hawk-Eye! He's one of us!" he explained cheerfully. Hershel sighed in relief before turning a beaming grin at the older boy. Duke joined him, the girl following after in giggles.

"So what's a bloke like you doin' out here?" he asked the young Layton, "You found those old buggers and got yer friends back, eh?" Hershel nodded and curled his hand over his mouth in consideration, brow furrowed.

"Yes, we did, but they're not letting up on us at all." he replied seriously, "That's why I came looking for you chaps. I need your help." The children blinked in unison, surprised expressions on their faces.

Luke paced the living room in agitation, jaws clenched tightly as he strode back and forth before the expansive window that gave him the best view of the street. Somewhere out there, little Hershel was wandering about in a London that was far different from his own time. He wanted desperately to get out there and retrieve him, but there was just no way he could leave his self-imposed post at Layton's side for any amount of time. And yet if anything happened to Hershel, then everything would fall apart right then and there.

"Geh!" Luke growled, biting his thumbnail fiercely as he paced even more quickly. Flora and his younger self watched him from their seats on the sofa before turning their gazes towards Professor Layton, the older man at the phone and making calls.

"It's his own fault for runnin' off." Young Luke grumbled, sitting back and folding his hands behind his head, "Stupid bloke." The elder Penford gave him a glare as Layton sighed on the phone.

"All right, sir. I'll be in touch, then, should anything else occur. Good day." the Professor murmured and hung up the phone, turning to the children with a shake of his head, "The authorities won't be able to help us recover him this soon. I've filed a report that Hershel's missing, using the name Harold for safety's sake, but it doesn't seem likely that they'll be able to pull themselves from their duties long enough to search for one errant little boy. Even a Layton." Luke made a strangely torn sound, turning from the door to the Professor in frantic indecision. "Luke, stop that; it does no one any good to stalk about the house like that." Layton berated the teen and took up his usual contemplative stance, fingers curling over his mouth as his brow furrowed. "He left to find the Gutter Valley Boys, this is for certain." he mused aloud, "What an interesting puzzle..."

"Puzzle?" Flora echoed in confusion as both Lukes flinched in synch. Layton ignored the expressions, choosing instead to pull out a sheet of paper and a pen from beside the phone, then joining the group at the tea table.

"Here, let me demonstrate this as a puzzle. Perhaps you'll see what I mean this way." he remarked with a smile and neatly folded the paper into six sections before tearing it apart to form six squares. With the pen, he wrote their names on five of the squares, setting the final one aside as it was unnecessary. "Here we have the five of us; Flora, Luke, Penford, Hershel, and myself. Hershel is not with us at the moment so let's place him here." Layton began and slid the paper with Hershel's name off to one side, "Now look at the relationships we have amongst the four that are left here. Let's try to send someone after Hershel, as we know that Scotland Yard will be of little aid to us, what with his distrust of the authorities at this age."

Young Luke and Flora bent forward in interest as Layton's finger hovered over the four squares. Luke huffed, but watched from where he stood, arms folded over his chest. His eyebrow lifted when the Professor finally chose his name and began to slide it across.

"We could send Penford here to retrieve Hershel..." Layton began and Luke snorted.

"No, we can't." he argued, "My reason for being here is to observe you, Professor. Leaving you for any amount of time is detrimental to my mission. We've already seen what happens each time you are away from me for even a short period of time." All eyes turned to him and the young man shook his head, "As much as I would love to go and find Hershel, I simply can't afford to abandon you either." He strode over and plunked a finger down on the paper with Layton's name on it, sliding it swiftly across to join his own name being held down by the Professor. "You'd have to come with me, then. The two of us can find Hershel quite easily."

"'Ey! You'd be leaving me and Flora behind!" Young Luke protested in irritation, "That's not fair!" Luke scowled at the boy as Layton adjusted his hat, frowning.

"It's also not gentlemanly. You shouldn't leave a lady and a youngster alone with unknown persons." he added, looking up at the time-traveler from under the brim of his top hat, "Luke, you should know better than this." Luke felt his face flush at that, embarrassment and guilt burning the tips of his ears.

"Then... then we should all go together! The four of us!" he blurted, sliding the other two papers to join the first ones. Flora opened her mouth, closed it, then blushed as she made a small gesture for attention.

"But... won't that leave the house unguarded as well?" she finally pointed out shyly, "I mean, we're having the locks changed, and none of us have a new key yet and the work is only partially done..." Layton nodded in agreement.

"You are very much correct, my dear. It would be quite foolish for us all to leave and invite thieves into our home while we are away." he murmured, shooting the elder Penford another look that made him mentally writhe in the flames of his own shame. "Why don't we do this instead?" And Layton took control of all four squares of paper, sliding them aside before sliding the one bearing Young Luke's name across to join the Hershel square. Luke bristled.

"We can't do that either!" he argued hotly, "Certain things are occurring that involve my younger self and I highly doubt that you'd be so quick to throw me to the beasts, considering...!" He stopped himself in time, clapping his mouth shut so quickly he nearly bit his tongue. Layton's eyes narrowed at him, a faintly predatory glint in them.

"Considering what, Sir Luke?" the man pressed and Luke huffed again, wagging a finger at him with a wry grin.

"Tsk, tsk, Professor. Shame on you for trying to gain information on the future from me like this." he taunted, "I never knew you could be this underhanded. Perhaps you're regaining what you've learned from the Gutter Valley Boys after all."

"Well, if none of us can go, and all of us can't go." Young Luke began thinking aloud, pushing the bill of his cap up in thought, "And pairs of us can't work... then the only way I can see to solve this puzzle..." He looked down at the table suddenly, a sharp expression on his face that quickly gave way to a wide smile, "Oh! How does this sound?" He jumped forward, pressing his fingers to the sixth square of paper and sliding it over to join the Hershel square. "We'll call someone else to go and get Hershel back! Someone who isn't in Scotland Yard and we can trust!" he declared and beamed up at the Professor, "Right?"

"Quite right, Luke!" Layton praised with a smile and rose to his feet, "And it just so happens that I believe I know the perfect gentleman to help us with this little predicament." He strode back to the phone and began dialing again, the disc of numbers rocking back and forth in a blur under his quick fingers. There was a minute of silence as the Professor waited for a response from the other end, and then...

"Ah, Mr. Riley, this is Professor Layton. ... Good day to you as well, dear friend. ... Would it be too much of a bother for you to perform a small favor for me?"

"So's you want us to keep watch for those spiky-headed blokes around P'fessah Layt'n's house? Is dat right?" Rattik asked in confusion. Hershel nodded energetically and the four members of the Gutter Valley Boys looked at one another with some concern.

"I dunno. Isn't this somethin' Scotland Yard can do better than us?" Duke questioned the young Layton.

"Maybe, but I'd feel a lot better if you guys helped out too. I can sneak you some food and things to help out some. Like a payment of sorts!" Hershel pointed out quickly, "Please? If I know the house is being watched by guys like you, then I can help Sir Luke with his mission and then we'd be able to go home sooner!" Rattik sighed, waving a hand at him half-heartedly.

"Ahh, a'right, a'right! We'll watch the bloody house. And we'll hold ya to the promise of food, too." he finally declared, "Geez. Ya make it sound like it's a matter of life and death, Hawk-Eye." Hershel chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.

"Not really. This is just until Sir Luke's watch says he's done, and then we're all done." he replied and waved to them as he turned to leave, "I'd better get back to the house before it's too late. Wouldn't want Sir Luke to call the constables on me or anything!" The boys and girl waved back as Hershel darted off down the alley back to the market street.

A smile spread over his face as he thought on the arrangements he'd just made with the Gutter Valley Boys. They would take turns keeping watch on the Layton house in case the creepy old man and the creepy other man started poking around there. If the old man was able to find out that Sir Luke was staying with him and his parents in the Layton Manor to attack him there, then maybe he could do it again here. For Sir Luke's sake, Hershel was going to make sure that there wouldn't be any surprise kidnappings or anything like that!

He hurried down the street, unaware of the car that was pulling up beside him until it honked and startled him out of his thoughts. Puzzled but wary, he slowed to a walk, scanning his surroundings to be sure he had a clear escape route in case he didn't like whoever was in the car. A man leaned across the empty seat in his car to stick his head out the window to blink at him.

"Pa-parah." he told Hershel and the boy's eyes widened in shock.

"Wh-what?" he blurted out, startled that this stranger knew the code of the Gutter Valley Boys. The man gave him a worried look.

"You're Harold, aren't you? Professor Layton gave me your description and said you'd respond to the code. Didn't think he knew any new members of the Gutter Valley Boys..." he remarked and Hershel stared at him longer, "So are you him or not?" For another moment, the young Layton remained dumbfounded. Why was this man calling him Harold? Was this another of those things Sir Luke was doing to make sure people didn't know who he really was because they were in his future? And if that was so, then why didn't they just use his nickname of Hesch?

But, wait, this same man knew the codes for the Gutter Valley Boys, and it was the Boys that had given him the name 'Hesch'. So if this was one of the Boys all grown up, and they heard that name from him now... would that do something bad to his future, or something that would mess up Sir Luke's mission?

"Um, um..." Hershel stammered for time before remembering his gentlemanly lessons and straightening his posture, "Y-Yes, sir, that's me." Best go along with it for now. Don't wreck a perfectly good cover story if it's been provided for you, after all. "Professor Layton sent you to find me? May I ask who you are?" The man nodded, smiling at last.

"What a relief! Yes, the Great Professor said you'd be wandering around this part and asked if I could take you back to his house. He's been worried and wasn't able to leave to pick you up himself, what with the house being so open now." he remarked and touched his fingers to his forehead in a mock-salute, "Daniel Riley, at yer service, sir! Y'know, you look an awful lot like Hawk-Eye when he was a kid." Hershel managed a weak smile.

"A-ah, so I've been told..." he returned and frowned slightly. Daniel Riley... the name sounded faintly familiar. Well, the Professor had sent this gent out to take him back to the Layton house and he was once a member of the Gutter Valley Boys, so he should be fairly safe. But just to be sure... "Did anyone else ask about me when they sent you to find me?" he questioned, eyes narrowing in suspicion. The man called Riley blinked at him, then laughed.

"You really do take after Hawk-Eye! So sharp!" he declared, "Right, right. A young man Layton referred to as your mentor had shouted from the background. Said that if you came back safe and sound, he'd let you wear his blue hat all you like for the rest of the day." Hershel lit up and he hurried to the car door.

"Really? He said I could wear his hat?" he asked excitedly and Riley nodded, laughing. A quick motion with his hands on the door and Hershel plopped himself into the empty passenger seat, smiling widely. A chance to wear that hat, Sir Luke's favorite hat! He clapped his hands gleefully at the idea as Riley set to driving them to the Layton house.

The reunion at the Layton house was warm and friendly, with Luke keeping to his word and plopping his own blue newsboy's cap in place of Hershel's top-hat for his reward... after lecturing him on running off without so much as a note and reminding him severely that he was responsible for keeping an eye on him this whole trip. Hershel looked properly abashed and apologized several times and made the usual childish promises of 'I'll never do it again, ever, ever, ever!' before all was finally forgiven. He then set to chasing after Young Luke all over the front garden for having teased him so much about coming home only for the sake of the hat.

"You have my gratitude in bringing him home safely, Mr. Riley." Layton remarked in a soft but genuine tone, quelling the flinch that a headache brought on thanks to his younger self getting into yet another wrestling match with his apprentice. "Though he is technically the responsibility of this young man here, both are under my care as long as they live with me, so I feel the weight of the responsibility as well. I apologize for being unable to leave my home to retrieve the boy, but..." He trailed off in embarrassment, gesturing towards the locksmith that worked on the front door, the last lock in the household.

"Think nothing of it, old chum!" Riley returned brightly, then took on a confused look, "Though I kept having the strangest sense of deja vu. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought that I was looking at a living embodiment of our boyhood memories, the Hershel Layton I knew as a child." The Professor chuckled, a nervous sound that he tried to keep smooth and unassuming.

"Wishful thinking, perhaps? If only we could be that young again. No, my good man, young Harold here is a cousin of mine who came from Wilshire for a visit with his mentor. He simply wanted to explore London and you know how restless children can be, especially young boys with a penchant for mischief." Layton replied, not entirely too pleased with himself for telling yet another untruth. He watched the boys tumble across the grass in their rough-housing for a moment before turning back to the young attorney. "I don't suppose you know for certain how goes the... process?" he asked anxiously and Riley sighed.

"It will take a few days for all the records to be changed over properly, but you can still amend your own personal documents to reflect the adoption." he explained, "Though you've already said that you would come to me for this matter, I still suggest getting in touch with the attorney who handles your personal matters to work it out."

"I would be more at ease if it were you who made the alterations." Layton murmured, turning to keep the younger Luke from overhearing him. He was well aware, however, of the intense look being given to him by the elder Luke, who stood by the locksmith as he finished the final touches on the new lock. "I don't wish my family to realize too soon that I've... that I..." He trailed off uncomfortably and Riley gave him a comforting smile.

"I understand what you're trying to say. As a token of our friendship, I will gladly make the alterations to include your son in your documents and preserve their secrecy until such time -and God be willing it be far, FAR in the future- that his true identity needs to be revealed." he agreed and Layton sighed in relief, relaxing a bit. "However..." Here, he tensed again, uncertain as to what the attorney would say next. Riley was giving him a more serious expression before looking over at the young Luke, watching the boy laughing in triumph as he sat on Hershel's belly, pinning him to the ground yet again.

"However?" Layton prompted cautiously.

"At least let him know of your relationship with him." Riley told him firmly, in a low voice to keep from being overheard, "It would be cruel to the boy to deny him the knowledge that he finally has a family again. What if something were to happen to you, though I pray nothing ever does, and he were to learn of who he was only after you were gone? You're a kindhearted man, Hershel Layton, so I trust you will do what is best, but I implore you anyway." He paused and glanced over at the elder Luke. "And tell the young man there that I thank him for his message, though it's very queer to be told of something like that. I suspect..." Riley began, then stopped and shook his head, "Well, that's not in my place to say. Good day to you and yours, Professor." With that, he stepped back into his car and headed off with a wave.

Layton waved back, his mind already puzzling over those last bits of advice. For some reason, Riley's words seemed to strike a chord with him, as though fitting into place like a puzzle piece, but he had already forgotten what the previous pieces were. Another faint headache and he sighed, dismissing the thoughts for later contemplation as he turned back to the young boys.

"Luke, please get off of Hershel. I think he's well aware that you're much larger than he is and it is starting to become a bit painful..." he called out.

"He's bloody fat, is what he is!" Hershel yelled in a fury, struggling under Young Luke's weight. Luke strode over to the two of them with a harsher sigh.

"Off, half-pint! Don't break the future!" he griped, hoisting his younger self up into the air by the back of his shirt. Young Luke flailed in surprise.

"'Ey! Put me down! Professah!" he cried in alarm and Layton only sighed, lifting a hand to his forehead as Flora giggled behind her hands. The locksmith stood from his work and walked up to the Professor, holding out a set of keys.

"Work's all done, sir. These be your new house keys." he told him and wiped his brow with a handkerchief, "Hoo, warm day. Well, if that be all ye need of me..." Layton nodded, thanking him quietly as he pocketed the keys, "Right, then. Good day to ye." The locksmith tipped his hat, then tottered off to his own car, the vehicle whining in complaint as he drove off.

By then, Luke had set his younger self down to help Hershel up, then flipped open the Time-Binder, studying it grimly as the minute hand completed its circuit and both hands clicked down to the fifth hour. So the fourth event was now complete. He only wished he knew for certain how Don Paolo had gotten past the new locks and deadbolts to reach the Professor. The face of the watch was also glowing, a soft green color that was one of several coded alarms built into the device. Green was the color of a personal Time-shift, an alteration in the past that affected a single entity in the future. The soft chime that accompanied such an alarm had gone off in Mr. Riley's office, but he was uncertain as to whose personal history had been altered; his own, or Hershel's?

Luke's hand tightened around the pocket-watch suddenly, willing back tears that threatened to fall as thinking of the chime reminded him of what he had learned there. Thanks to his interception of the letter in the attorney's office, he now had a motive to place in this historical tragedy.

"My fault. He died because of me." Luke hissed under his breath. Don Paolo had wanted him, but Professor Layton had adopted him, forever keeping the mad scientist from his goal... unless Layton was no longer alive to keep him. But why? That was the main question. Why was all this centered on him? Was it because of the money?

Luke fished out his notebook again, flipping past the time-shifted pages to the newest notes. According to the copy he had made of the letter, Don Paolo had wanted him BEFORE the adoption could take place. So then he didn't want Luke to take Layton's name? Without that name, the Layton estate wouldn't be under his control. What did that old nutter want from him that could only be given if he lacked the name?

He tapped the notebook against his lips, watching without truly being aware of it as Professor Layton called Young Luke and Flora over to him to pass out the new keys. Young Luke clutched his happily, smiling broadly as his mentor... father... pointed out to him that he should keep that key safe and secure. Flora held her own tightly in hand, an expression of joy on her own face that made Luke blush and look away quickly. He felt a small hand in his and looked down at his apprentice in surprise.

"It'll be all right, Sir Luke. I asked the Boys to help watch the house and keep those creepy old men away from you." Hershel told him, looking so solemn and serious despite wearing the blue cap in place of his top-hat. "We'll finish what we came here to do and then we can go home. Just like you said." Luke gazed down at him with a tremulous smile, fully aware that things would not go as the young Layton planned or hoped. He knelt and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders, schooling his expression into one that was more lighthearted and worry-free.

"That's right, Hershel. When it's all done, we'll be back where we belong." he murmured, feeling his own heart twist at those words.


	25. Chapter 25

Something wasn't jiving with the new calculations.

Luke tapped his pen against his lips as he studied the various equations he'd scribbled out onto the sheets of paper. He sat at the desk in the small study downstairs, a room next to the Professor's office. It was used primarily by his younger self to do schoolwork and work on some of the harder puzzles as a precursor to helping Professor Layton at the work office. But in his efforts to gain some peace and quiet, he commandeered the room and sent the younger Luke off to find someplace new to do his studies.

Suffice to say, based on that faint headache now growing in the back of his mind, Little Luke chose to do something else in place of his work. Just when he was growing annoyed enough to deal with it, the headache faded to nothing. Had someone else interfered with Young Luke and Hershel's little spat? Luke let the pen settle against his mouth, musing on it with half-lidded eyes. Perhaps he should just check on them, very quickly, to satisfy himself that one or the other hadn't decided to off their rival and destabilize the entirety of the Time Stream. The usual formula for plotting historical Hours seemed to be failing at the moment, and until Luke could develop a new one or gathered enough altered information from the current events there wasn't going to be much hope in discovering what was going on with the Binder.

Sighing despondently, Luke slipped both pen and pad away, rose from the desk and headed out of the room, just in time to nearly run into Professor Layton on his way to his office. He stopped short, momentarily startled. "Ah, Professor! Apologies for that; I didn't know you were out here." he remarked in a faintly surprised tone. Layton chuckled softly, shaking his head at the time-traveler.

"It's perfectly all right, Luke. I was just on my way to collect the papers for my lecture at Gressenheller University." he returned, lifting a finger to tap the brim of his hat, "It's been two days since Don Paolo interrupted the session and I do have an obligation to fulfill."

"The lecture is today?" Luke realized in alarm. Layton lifted an eyebrow at his reaction and he winced, mentally berating himself for adding extra importance to an event that, for all intents and purposes, should be of no consequence.

"Yes, it is, Luke." the Professor returned and smiled, that kind of smile that looked genial but was secretly sharp -and Luke imagined a shark leering at him with that smile-, "Why look so surprised? Is this another event that seems to have come upon us far too soon?"

Luke swallowed, feeling his throat go dry; the action didn't help at all. He shook his head quickly, eyes wide. Well, he'd challenged the Professor to uncover the secrets behind the Time-Binder and, by proxy, his mission. This was what he had asked for, so he shouldn't be so surprised about it. But that didn't mean he was going to roll over and let the man solve the puzzle this early.

"No. Not at all. Your lecture at Gessenheller has no historical value to me whatsoever." the elder Penford returned as flippantly as he could without being too insulting. The look on Layton's face was enough to tell him he'd failed that pretty badly. "I mean, not important as in, well, in the grand scheme!" Luke stammered out in an attempt to smooth over the faux pas, waving his hands before himself before sighing in resignation, "Professor, you know you're not allowed to know the future."

"Yes, yes. Don't worry, Luke, I'll leave the puzzle be for the moment." Layton chuckled, then pat him on the shoulder with a wry smile, "For the sake of safety, I'll be leaving the children here at home. You'll be in charge of the house while I'm gone." With that, he turned to enter his office, leaving Luke to blink rapidly a few times before realizing what was happening.

"Professor! You can't leave me behind!" he cried, whirling around to follow the older man, "My mission is dependent on staying near you, and the only way I can do that is if we are all with you!" The door closed shut and Luke's pounding on the wood seemed to fall on deaf ears. "Professor! Open this door this minute!" he declared, "You're not acting like a proper gentleman!"

That last exclamation seemed to jolt his memory. Layton acted out of sorts when Hershel was doing something un-Layton-like. Luke chewed on his lower lip for a moment, debating whether to keep hounding the Professor until he agreed to take them all along on the lecture or dash off to see what Hershel was doing. He jogged in place, decision already made for him by that kernel of logic in the back of his mind that told him it was best to preserve the past to ensure the future.

"I'll be back to finish this, Professor!" Luke shouted at the door and darted off. A moment after he disappeared down the stairs in the hunt for Hershel, Layton's office door opened and he emerged with his briefcase of lecture notes and paperwork. He smiled at the last place he'd seen the future Luke, a look of faint exasperation on his face.

Hershel had been scuffling with Young Luke again earlier, but froze in place at the sound of a small bird whistling just outside. In a flash, he twisted free of Luke's attempt at a grappling hold and raced for the door in the kitchen that led outside. Startled, Luke scrabbled to his feet and followed as quickly as he could; he'd always been the fastest of the three of them, him, Professor Layton and Flora, but he was finding Hershel was really making him fight to keep that position.

"Hershel! Hey!" he shouted, surprising Flora as she entered the den in time to see the boy rush into the kitchen. Luke dashed out of the house, following the little Layton to a nearby alley. "Hershel!" The other boy must have finally heard him as he stopped abruptly and turned to look back at him first in surprise, then in irritation.

"Why don't you go back to the house? I know what I'm doing!" Hershel told him in frustration and faced forward again, whistling sharply a few times. Luke puffed his cheeks but refused to budge, folding his arms over his chest in defiance.

"We're not supposed to be outside! At least not without telling Professor Layton where we're going to be!" he pointed out as two figures emerged from the shadows of the alley to approach Hershel. It was Rattik and Duke, the Gutter Valley Boys that Hershel had befriended and hired to watch the house. They gave Luke a faintly distrustful look.

"'Ey, Hawk-Eye. Is dat bloke wit' you?" Rattik asked uncertainly, "He's a chum?" Hershel gave Luke an appraising glance and shrugged. That seemed good enough to Rattik and he went on with his report. "Okay, so's we been watching dat house and those old blokes showed up in the mornin', early like." Hershel and Luke both gasped in unison, sharing their alarm at the news. Duke nodded, picking up where his brother began.

"They went into the carport, there." he pointed towards the sheltered part of the brownstone where the Laytonmobile was kept, "They didn't stay long, just a few minutes, then they scrambled off like someone sicced hounds on them."

"What would they be doing in there?" Hershel wondered worriedly, "Sir Luke keeps his magic scooter with him all the time..." There was the sound of a door closing and the boys all looked to see Professor Layton move quickly from the front door to the carport. They stared in confusion, heard another door slam and shifted their gazes to see the older Luke scramble out of the kitchen door, head turning back and forth as though searching for something or someone. The sound of a car engine starting drew the boys' attentions back, and even the future Luke stiffened at hearing it.

"Where's Professor Layton going?" Luke questioned aloud and started running back to the house as a dread feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. Why was he leaving and without him or Flora? Did he want to go somewhere without them? Was this a sign that he didn't want either of them around? He pushed the thoughts aside as Hershel thanked the street urchins for the information and raced to join Luke in meeting with Penford. The young man had dashed across the grass around the house just in time to see the Laytonmobile hurry off down the street. "Penford! What's going on?" Luke cried out to his future self.

"Luke, Hershel! Where have you been?" Penford scolded in a rush before looking over at the disappearing form of the car, "No, no, no! It can't be this early!" He pulled out his pocket-watch, clicked it open, and looked at its face in dismay before pocketing it again. "It's too soon! Why is it moving so fast?"

"What's too soon?" Hershel asked of him in concern before remembering the information he'd gotten, "Sir Luke! The creepy old men that were chasing you; Rattik and Duke said they were here this morning! They were in there!" And he pointed at the carport. Penford stared at him, followed his arm to the shelter, then looked up at the distance in horror.

"They're accelerating the timeline!" he whispered and pulled out the capsule containing his scooter, "Hershel! Take Young Luke back inside the house! Lock all the doors and windows, don't let anyone inside, don't even answer the door if anyone knocks!" He threw the capsule and shielded his eyes as his scooter appeared in its place on the street. Penford climbed on and aimed a stern glare at Hershel when the boy tried to join him. "Get in the house. Let no one in. Not until I return for you." he growled and raced off, coat flapping in the wind as the scooter rushed to catch up to the Laytonmobile.

"Why won't he tell us anything?" Luke complained, shaking his fists after the fading dust cloud that was Penford's trail, "You creep! At least let us know what your mission is so we can help too! Don't you even trust me? I'm you!" Hershel glared at him with half-lidded eyes, wishing he could smack the other boy, before he felt that skin-crawling sensation of someone watching him. Carefully reaching up to tug down his hat and shield his eyes, the young Layton scanned their surroundings, ignoring Luke's shouts to find who it was that was giving him that familiar feeling.

There. Across the street and lurking in the shadows of buildings and rubbish bins, the two Don Paolos leered at them, already making moves to get closer. Yelping in alarm, Hershel pushed at Luke to get him moving.

"They're here! Get in the house! Hurry!" he cried as Luke protested the pushing. The sandy-haired boy looked up at the men hurriedly coming their way and cried out in alarm as well, grabbing Hershel by the arm and running for the front door. They scrambled inside, slamming the door shut and locking it. "I'll get the windows! You do the doors!" the young Layton added, yanking his arm free and racing for the closest window. Luke nodded quickly, fear making his heart pound as he twisted a knob by the door that dropped a puzzle lock into place on the other side, a second layer of protection for the house.

"Flora!" he called out as he ran for the kitchen to lock that door as well. The girl was there, confused by the commotion as she made herself a sandwich for a snack. "Flora, we're being invaded! Hide!" Luke blurted out in a panic, locking the rear door and dropping another puzzle lock in place.

"Invaded? By whom?" Flora questioned in confusion. She yelped when Luke hurried over and grabbed her hand, rushing back into the den with her just in time to see Hershel arm himself with his slingshot and candies. Luke pulled her behind the sofa, dropping into a crouch as he peeked around the furniture. Flora peeked around it as well, her head appearing just over Luke's in a rather comical manner. The young Layton took his place before the two of them, hands gripping the slingshot and loaded candy even as he held them together down by his side, loose enough to avoid stressing his arms but ready enough to easily be brought up and fire at a moment's notice.

The house was silent, and the silence frightened them.

Professor Layton had no idea what events were passing at his home, and only felt confidence that leaving Luke, Flora and Hershel in the care of Penford for the next few hours would be perfectly alright. Penford had a unusual sense of responsibility and logic; he would be able to maintain the household for a short time. He adjusted his hat and breathed a sigh of relief. If anything else happened at the university during his lecture, at least the children would be safely out of harm's way. That was an additional comfort.

Layton spotted the turn he would need to take to get to Gessenheller University just up ahead and pressed lightly on the brake to help slow down and ease into the curve.

The brake didn't respond.

Curious by that, Layton glanced down very quickly to be sure he was indeed pressing the brake pedal. Yes, he was, but it didn't seem to make a difference. He pressed down a little further; still no response. And now he missed the turn, but that no longer was important as the Professor realized with growing alarm that the brakes on his car weren't working. He pressed on the pedal repeatedly, pumping it desperately and praying under his breath that the car would slow down. When it refused to, he went to the next logical step in attempting to stop his car; lifting his foot from the gas pedal.

There was a click when he released pressure from it, and the car sped up anyway. Layton clenched his teeth together, trying not to panic as he steered his car as best he could, dodging other automobiles and hoping he didn't get into an accident. What had happened? Why was the Laytonmobile acting this way? He'd tuned it this morning after breakfast so it would be ready for his trip to give his lecture. It looked perfectly fine then!

He reached for the emergency brake, pulling on it and crying out in shock as he heard the gears drop with a Clank! That was it, now he knew what was going on.

"Sabotage!" Layton whispered and returned to steering, evading cars and running through traffic lights as his part of his mind shot back to that mysterious letter he'd received at Mr. Riley's office. It had threatened him if he persisted in adopting Luke; was it possible that the sender was making good on that threat by setting him up for a fatal accident?

"Professor~!" a voice yelled at him, hard to hear over the noise of tires screeching, horns honking and his own pounding heartbeat. At first, Layton thought it was a trick of the mind, panic making him believe someone was calling for him, distracting him from the task of getting his car off the busy streets and somewhere else, someplace where no one else could be harmed.

"Professor~!" There it was again, closer this time, and Layton dared a glance into the rearview mirror, eyes widening at the sight of Penford on his scooter, barreling after him with a determined glare. He didn't dare look away from his task of avoiding a collsion, even as the time-traveler managed to gather enough speed to pull up alongside him, swerving to avoid hitting incoming traffic that did the same to avoid him and the speeding Laytonmobile.

"Professor! Jump!" Penford cried, reaching an arm out to him. Layton shook his head, eyes darting back and forth to track the positions of the vehicles around him, hand lowering the window to reply to the young man.

"You shouldn't be here, Luke! You could be hurt!" he declared.

"I don't care! Jump! The Laytonmobile's going to crash, but you won't be as seriously injured!" the young man returned and shook his hand, like the gesture would magically change Layton's mind about jumping.

"If I abandon her now, she'll crash into someone else and hurt them!" the Professor yelled, turning sharply to dodge a car in the same lane. Penford swerved aside as well, then angled back to within an arm's reach of the customized car, reaching out again. "I'm not jumping, Luke! I've got to get my car out of populated areas!" Layton shouted forcefully. The young man glared at him, teeth clenched tightly, but he withdrew his arm and returned to steering his scooter with both hands. For a moment, Layton felt a grim satisfaction and pride that he'd convinced his future student -and son- to pull away.

That moment passed quickly. Luke pressed a button on the scooter's little control box, nestled between the handlebars, and it sped up even more, matching paces with the Laytonmobile more easily. He turned it carefully, bringing it closer, and Layton stared in shock and horror as the time-traveler steered his scooter just enough to bump against the Laytonmobile.

"Luke! Stop! This is madness! You'll be killed!" he yelled out the window at the young man, "What do you hope to accomplish?"

"The lesser of two evils, Professor!" Luke returned, drawing closer to the right front tire. Layton steered away from him, changing lanes to avoid further collisions with anyone and evading Penford's advances. The young man only pressed in closer, his favored blue cap staying on only by a miracle. Again Layton moved aside, turning off the main streets and into the more rural roads, businesses making way for homes and parks, trees and shrubs becoming more abundant.

"Get away, Luke!" the Professor yelled at him furiously, fear twisting around his heart as he began pounding on the brake pedal again, even though he knew full well how futile it was. Luke was standing on his scooter now, leaning forward in an attempt to reduce drag. He steered to the right again, scraping the end of a handlebar against the driver's side door. "Luke!" Layton looked around helplessly, but there was no more road to drive on. The young man was pressing him into a looming park, and people were already scattering to the winds in screams of panic.

"Hang on, Professor! Your time isn't here! Not according to history!" Luke called out. He pulled the silver dagger from its sheath at his side and leaned down, jabbing it into the tire of the Laytonmobile. It blew out, forcing him to swerve away, but he drew back as the car began swerving on the flattened tire. Grass and dirt was torn up and thrown about in its wake, the Laytonmobile turning in the direction of the weakening front tire. A tree loomed directly in that path and Layton found it increasingly difficult to maintain a sense of calm despite the urgency.

There was a thump and he looked aside in shock at the sight of the future Luke clinging to the door, hugging it through the open window. The scooter was starting to fall back and his foot was hooked on the handlebar, trying to keep it close. Layton tried to pull him in with one hand, his control over the car slipping in the attempt. Finally, Luke gave up on the scooter, kicking it away with enough force to shove himself the rest of the way into the car. He sprawled across the passenger seat and Layton's lap, scrambling to get reoriented as the Professor tried to get the car back under control.

"Luke, what on earth are you doing?" Layton declared, unable to pull his hands away to help his unwanted passenger for fear of the Laytonmobile flipping over. The tree was drawing closer, and he steered away from it as best he could with the blown out tire hampering him. Luke kicked open the passenger door, pulling his hat down more firmly on his head. He turned then, unclipping the safety straps that held Layton in his seat and pulling him aside. "Luke! My car!" the Professor protested loudly.

"I've got it!" Luke returned sternly, slipping himself into place and shoving Layton aside, "Get out! Jump! Now!" He steered the Laytonmobile back on the path with the tree, ignoring the Professor's cry of alarm and protest. "We can't stop the Laytonmobile any other way!" Luke snapped, "The tree will halt it, but you have to jump out before the collision!" He glanced aside, and now Layton could see the warring emotions in his eyes, panic and determination and a strange resignation. "This is meant to happen, but you are meant to survive!" he added, "Now go! This is written in history; I can't allow it to change!"

"Luke..." the Professor began, reaching back to him. Luke shook his head fiercely, and he threw one arm aside, shoving Layton back with just enough force to knock the older man out of the car. The Professor instinctively tucked in his arms and rolled in the direction of his fall, tumbling across the torn up landscaping of the park as the automobile roared on ahead. He finally came to a stop, scrambling to all fours and yelling Luke's name again.

The car suddenly spun at the last moment and Layton watched in horror as the driver's side slammed into the tree. It crumpled, bending in place, but it stopped at last. Layton stared at the ruined car for a moment longer, then stumbled to his feet, wincing at the pain running through his limbs from having been shoved from a speeding vehicle. He gripped his bruised arm with one hand, certain that the previous injuries to it were now exacerbated by this turn of events. But he wasn't the only one that could be hurt and Layton staggered to the car, dreading what he would see.

Luke's figure was slumped to one side, sprawled across the seats of the Laytonmobile. The Professor gasped, reaching out to shake the young man and freezing in place when Luke groaned, shifting in place. He pulled his arms in and used them to lift himself up, albeit unsteadily. He coughed a few times, one hand rising to press against his head.

"Luke?" Layton questioned in concern, "Are you all right, my boy?" Luke nodded, wincing at the motion. The Professor offered his hand again and the young man accepted it this time, allowing himself to be half-guided and half-pulled out of the wreckage by his mentor. "What did you mean by this being meant to happen?" he asked once Luke was out of the car and standing on his own two feet. He swayed a little and shifted more of his weight against Layton, one arm pulled across his shoulders. They walked away from the Laytonmobile, watching as the people that had dodged them started reemerging, hurrying towards them to check on their conditions.

"It's nothing, Professor. Just so long as you're safe now." Luke returned with a faint grimace, "Wretched bloody way of passing an Hour, though." Layton gave him a faintly suspicious glance, noting the odd statement but he flicked it to the back of his mind, adding it to the other bits of clues he was gathering about the time-traveler's mission. "We have to go back to the house." Luke added softly, looking around for his missing scooter, "Or at least you do. The children are home alone. I couldn't take them with me to help you. Not this time."

"We must get to a hospital first! There could be injuries...!" Layton began pointing out worriedly, trailing off at the beginnings of a headache. An old, new memory was slipping into place; Hershel standing guard, full of fear yet determined to make a stand that would make Sir Luke proud of him, against two familiar foes attempting to get past the puzzle locks on the house. "Something... something's very wrong." the Professor murmured grimly. Luke nodded again, pointing out the scooter lying on its side in the earth.

"I know. That's why you must go back." he explained and pulled away from the Professor to sit on the grass, cringing in pain as he pressed a hand gently against his side. He waved off the older man when he tried to kneel and tend to him. "Don't mind me! I'll go with the medical team these people most probably called to get us." Luke told him sharply, "Take my scooter and go home! It's the only method of transport I have, but you should be clever enough to solve the puzzle of riding it." Layton glared at the young man, as if the stern look would change his mind and allow him to stay and tend to him, but Luke's return glare was more potent, loaded with his preordained knowledge and certainty of future events, information that was kept out of Layton's reach and contributed to his older student's nightmares.

Finally, Layton nodded, slowly, and he moved aside to pick up the fallen scooter, brushing off debris and taking a seat. He pressed a button on the control box that was marked 'Start', and a small screen came on. The text on it asked him for either his identification number or a puzzle. Eyebrows furrowing slightly in thought, Layton turned to see if he could get the number from Luke first, but the young man was already shaking his head, even though his eyes were upon the wrecked Laytonmobile only a few meters away. Like he already knew what would be asked of him. The Professor sighed and returned to select the option for a puzzle, and one began appearing on the screen.

"Two men stand face to face, occupying same time and place. Near perfect match in each detail, few differences make these twins fail." Professor Layton read softly, wondering where the puzzle would take him, "Though one always raises his right hand, the other raises his left as planned. A single sun, this day shines bright; what could make this incident be right?" He frowned in thought. This puzzle was playing with words and rhyme, no doubt some were intended to throw him off. He curled his fingers over his chin, faintly aware of Luke changing position to lie in the grass, breathing in a deliberately even pace.

The puzzle stated two men standing and facing one another. They looked perfectly alike, save for a few minor differences, and each raising opposing hands constantly. What troubled him was the last line; what could be the point of stating there was a single sun when only a breath later the puzzle confirms it is a bright day? One only needs to say the day is bright to let someone know the sun was shining. Unless the word wasn't meant to be 'sun', but 'son'! The Professor blinked, realization dawning on him as the shrill tones of an ambulance neared the crash site. A single son, meaning the puzzle must be referring to the men, which changed everything. The puzzle couldn't be solved if the two men were just that, two men; it made sense once he knew that the two were really one.

The control box had a small speaker on its front, along with a button next to it that would activate the device. Layton pressed and held it down, hoping it would register a voice speaking into it. He cleared his throat and spoke his answer evenly.

"A mirror." he told the control box. A man looking into a mirror would be looking at his 'twin' with asymmetrical details being flipped, hence making them 'fail' as twins. Raising his right hand would make it appear as if the reflection was raising his left, and the best way to see a reflection would be on a sunny day, since mirrors needed to reflect light to create this illusion. And apparently he was right; the engine on the scooter purred to life and Layton looked over at his future student for one last check.

"I'll be fine! Go!" Luke scolded, glaring up at him from where he lay on the grass. The Professor thinned his mouth, nodding once, then steered the scooter away, hurrying down the street with one hand pulling his hat down lower to keep it on his head. Luke watched him leave and pulled the Time-Binder from his pocket, clicking it open to check. "Fifth Hour, complete." he whispered, gazing at the two hands spinning around the face of the watch to rest on the numeral for six, the next Hour to come. He closed it, pocketed it, and finally let himself sink into unconsciousness as the onlookers came close to tend to him.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Recap!
> 
> Last, on Paradox Lost~
> 
> Sixteen-year-old Luke Penford has travelled from the future to the past in order to thwart the murder of Professor Layton by any means necessary. Overshooting his stop, he lands too far in the past and winds up becoming the mentor to a young Hershel Layton, who then follows Luke into the current age of Professor Layton. Following them is an elderly Don Paolo, who has joined forces with his younger self to force the timeline to change to a future where Professor Layton doesn't exist and Luke is Don Paolo's apprentice. As the Hours of the Time-Binder's program count down to the day of Layton's death, Luke must find out what is causing the changes to his personal history before the damage becomes permanent and Layton is erased from Time once and for all.
> 
> The Fifth Hour has just come to a close, with the crashing of the Laytonmobile, a threat that had been carried out once before in Luke's time and revealed to be the work of the two Don Paolos. Luke has been injured, but will he be all right, knowing that the Don Paolos are busy trying to break into the Layton house to get to Young Luke, Flora and Hershel?"

"A/N: I've taken a good hard look at the latest reviews, taking in the likes, the dislikes, the critiques. And then I went back to read over Paradox Lost myself, from the very beginning, and found those problem areas that were mentioned. So I went back and rewrote the introductions of Rattik, Duke and Daniel Riley to give them the descriptions they were lacking and truly deserved. They had initially been throwaway OCs, faceless characters that helped to move the plot along, but they kept recurring, kept making themselves into full OCs and so the lack of descriptions for them has become unfair.

So for those interested in the revamped versions of these characters' introductions, please look to chapter 21 for Rattik and Duke's new looks, and chapter 22 to see Daniel Riley's description. I hope they don't disappoint!

Now, on to some other things brought to my attention. Concerning the colors of Luke and Layton's eyes -wow, didn't think they had been an issue but oh well- I know that canonically, both of them have black eyes, or rather Luke had black eyes with no indication of whether they were iris, pupil, or both, and Layton... well, I called him Professor Beady-Eyes for a reason. Ahem, yeah. Anyway, I'm a stickler for color-coordination and the fact that Luke kept wearing so much blue drew me to giving him blue eyes to match. Layton's shades of browns and orange, with similar shaded hair, led me to giving him a warmer color of brown for his eyes, so I went with a honey color, which gives me some flexibility in expressing his emotions through them, since as a gentleman he tends to mask his feelings from showing on his face. Flora has her standard doe-brown eyes, unchanged from canon.

The reason why so many things are not canon with Unwound Future is simply because I began writing this story before Diabolical Box was even translated out of Japanese. I was operating on rumors of Last Time Travel and the many gossips going around about its plot and twists, much like what other fanfiction writers had done. This is why Luke's name is Penford, not Triton. Speak with a few of the early readers of this story back in the livejournal community, and some of them will say that they preferred the name Penford over Triton and the name has appeared in other fanfiction as well. I can't control that, and I had not been made aware of the Triton name until it was far too late for me to simply retcon Penford out of the story. As I've already declared Paradox Lost to be AU, that will be my reason to leave Penford as Luke's name. Besides, it makes his initials fun. PLP-L. Consider it my own inside joke.

I don't know when Anthony's name was changed to Anton for Diabolical Box, but one of my faithful readers actually cried at the canon game change, so I left the 'vampire' name of Anthony alone. I claim AU again for that one.

The relationship between Luke, Flora, and Young Luke has left a few readers confused and possibly up in arms. I apologize for that, but there is a reason for it. Let me see if I can clear it up properly. Young Luke does not have a crush on Flora, I can't stress that enough. He just doesn't. He thinks of her as a friend, possibly an older sister figure, but he is simply too young or too immature at this age to think of her like a possible romantic figure. Flora thinks of Young Luke as a little brother figure, someone that she took upon herself to keep tidy and under control when the Professor's busy. Her envy of their 'adventuring' that comes up in Diabolical Box and Unwound Future does not exist here; she goes with Layton and Young Luke just about everywhere because she is Layton's charge and it wouldn't be right to dump her at home alone since Layton's not on good terms with his father at the moment. Thus, she's more demure, the occasional damsel in distress, but she'll grow out of that as the story moves on.

Luke, on the other hand, thinks he's in love with Flora, what with the attraction and the shyness and the fluttery heart... but he's really not, and he'll learn this as the story progresses. What he's feeling is just his brotherly affection supercharged by her absence and distance in the future coupled with those well-known raging hormones now that he is interacting with her in the past. Flora may have a crush on him, but that's because he's inadvertently leading her on and she's still an innocent, seeing in him a gentleman of Layton's caliber but in a young man closer to her own age. That probably won't end well for her, but there really isn't much Luke can do about it now. He probably would have had a good healthy relationship with Nazolene -and I am not changing her name to Puzzlette because that's just the lamest thing I've ever heard- if he hadn't been trying to use her as a replacement for Flora. If he really looked at her as her own person, a romantic interest and not a stand-in sister, they might have hit it off better. I'm a Luke/Nazolene shipper anyway, canonically speaking. Outside of canon, well... I don't recall her name, but I do remember she had pinkish hair and it passed down to Luke's daughter. Moving on!

There will be no Claire or Celeste, and I'm having issues enough as it is working Schrader into the timeline in future chapters (way later in the future, about Ninth or Tenth Hour or so) so I may drop him. We'll see.

Someone wondered what the Temporal Slipstream Device did. Description of the device will be at the end of this chapter, so enjoy.

Humorous parts are put in to help break up the drama and the darker parts of the story, and sometimes they just pop up without me realizing it but they do help to keep Layton and the gang get too emo and oppressed or depressed. Last thing we need is the Professor donning black with spikes and cutting himself, right?

Thanks so much for your reviews and critiques, they really do help a lot and I probably should answer them more often, otherwise you really can't tell if I'm actually taking them to heart or not, and we wind up with these massive author notes. So, I'm going to shut up now and let you get back to the story."

He wasn't sure when he got the idea to get the phone, but once the idea came Luke darted off to grab it, retreating to the safety of the couch as he hugged his prize. Flora watched him fearfully as the boy started dialing, reciever pressed to his ear already. The two Don Paolos outside were still trying to get past the puzzle lock, and couldn't risk drawing attention by breaking a window. Hershel kept watch with his slingshot ready, but he was trembling, fear sinking into him deeper.

"Who are you calling?" Flora asked of Luke, unable to stand the suspense and stress of having their safe and comfortable home being under attack.

"The police! Maybe they can send... oh!" Luke exclaimed as the call made it through, "Hello? This is Luke Penford, Professor Layton's apprentice! You have to send somebody to our house, quick! There are these two low-life muggers trying to break in!" He started giving the address, but paused at something he was hearing, expression flitting from fear to confusion to disbelief to hysterics in rapid sequence. "Wh-what do you mean, 'there's been an accident'?" he screamed at the phone and Flora lifted her hands to her face, crying out in a panic, "The Professor left the house only half an hour ago!" He looked up at Hershel, face pale at the idea that his teacher, the man he thought of as a father, had been in a horrible automobile accident.

Hershel had turned back at hearing the news, eyes wide with alarm and tears clinging to the corners. "Wh-what about Sir Luke?" he whispered, "He went after the Professor!" Luke nodded in agreement and went back to the phone.

"Um, there should have been a second person. A tall bloke, dressed a bit like me." the boy told the operator and listened intently before letting the phone slide from his hands, too numb with shock to realize it. Flora caught it in her own hands and pleaded for help into the receiver. Hershel watched the other boy, the fear still coiling around him, and dropped to his kneels, slingshot going slack in his hands. Luke lifted his head to look back at him, mouth trembling. "The ambulance has him. He's going to a hospital, and they don't know where Professor Layton went. He got on Penford's scooter and just took off." he mumbled.

There was a loud thud against the front door and three sets of eyes shot up in its direction, full of terror and hopelessness. The puzzle lock had given way; only the new lock and the thick wood stood between them and the two Don Paolos. The children huddled together, Flora setting the phone aside to hug the two boys tightly, protectively. Even Hershel, for that moment, drew closer to Luke, folding part of his little cloak over him to try hiding him from view. If his mentor couldn't protect them now, then it was up to him to keep his younger self safe.

New sounds began outside of the house, shouting, yelling, the squeal of tires; the pounding on the door halted abruptly and then there was silence. Hershel managed to disentangle himself from the web of limbs and hugs, snatching his slingshot back up and taking his place before Flora and Luke, peppermint candy reloaded and aimed high. A fiercely determined glare settled on his little face, marred only slightly by the tear-stains on his ruddy cheeks.

A click sounded, and everyone tensed. That was the sound of a key sliding into the lock. It turned and the children could hear the door open, footsteps entering the house. They waited, fearing the worst, praying for the best. Finally, a sign of who was inside the house; a tall figure, dressed in brown with a fine silk top hat, looking battered himself. Hershel let his arm slip in shock, firing the candy. Layton jerked back to alertness when the peppermint hit him in the shoulder, and he blinked down at the children in surprise.

"Professor!" Luke and Flora exclaimed in unison, relieved to see him there. They got to their feet, hurrying to him and explaining in a rush the events that took place, tripping over each other's words. Hershel tried to look past him, hoping that the report over the phone had been wrong, that Sir Luke was going to come in too. Layton patted his two charges on the shoulders, a heavy sigh coming forth from deep inside.

"It's all right, children. Please, calm down. The Don Paolos ran away once I arrived. I'm fine, perfectly fine. Just a bit sore and bruised, but nothing a warm bath and a strong cup of tea can't cure." he told them quietly, "But that will have to wait. We must get to the hospital and see if Penford's been admitted yet." Hershel looked up at him tearfully and Layton gave him a grim look. "Your teacher saved my life, Hershel. Let's hope the price for that is not as high as we fear."

They gathered together, heading outside cautiously. Layton and Hershel scanned the street, their sharper visions and instincts searching out possible hidden threats, while Luke locked the door to the house and replaced the puzzle lock; it had been torn away, unsolved, with no small amount of damage to the box and the door. Once certain that all was safe, Layton led his group to the nearest bus stop. The scooter was parked in the carport, tucked away in the shadows, and without the Laytonmobile, the bus was the group's only mode of transportation.

"Here. I got you a present!" Nazolene remarked brightly, setting a large, flat blue box tied with a red ribbon down on the table in front of Luke. The young man blinked at it in surprise, one eyebrow lifted. He reached out, drawing it closer to him.

"What is it?" he asked of the girl. They'd dated several times, even considered themselves something akin to sweethearts, but Nazolene would find Luke's attention wandered inwards and knew who it was he was thinking of. She hoped a gift would bring his attention back to her.

"Wouldn't be much of a present if I told you." she teased him with a wink, "Open it and find out!" Luke managed a smile for her sake and tugged apart the ribbon, then lifted the lid of the box and set it aside to look at the contents. A folded blue coat rested within the gift box and he stared at it, uncertain of what to say.

"It's... a jacket?" Luke finally murmured curiously, head tilting at the sight. Nazolene giggled and reached in to bring the coat out to show him. It was lengthy, fine-cut and a shade of blue that reminded him of his childhood jumper and clear skies, days with the Professor and Flora that felt like they'd last forever.

"Ta-da!" Nazolene declared with a smile that faded into a concerned expression, "You keep wearing that grey jumper, and I get the feeling that you're in mourning when you have it on." The smile returned, slightly strained, and she pressed the coat into Luke's grasp. "Go try it on. I'll wait here." Luke nodded and headed into a nearby room. Inside, he pulled off the grey jumper he'd worn when Nazolene came for her visit. It was wool and drab in color, and she'd been right about why he wore it. Despite keeping the style of his newsboy's cap, darker than his childhood cap, his clothing had faded in color to suit the faded memories of once happy days. He looked the jumper over, sighed, and tossed it aside carelessly, leaving it to hang on a chair.

Layton's voice in his mind made him retrieve it, fold it properly and set aside with more care.

Luke rubbed his thumb over the fabric of his new coat. It was sturdier than the wool jumper, more tightly woven, and thinner. He slipped it on, straightening it over his vest and shirt, and closed the three buttons on its front. There was a mirror nearby, and he posed in front of it, still unsure of himself. The coat's bottom hem brushed against his knees and it startled him. He made a mental note to have it brought up a bit.

Dressed in the new coat, Luke headed back out to meet Nazolene, who clapped her hands and tittered happily over it. "It looks wonderful on you! You look more like yourself now!" she exclaimed and reached out, "Oh, but look at this. Leave it open," she undid the three buttons so the coat remained open, bringing the green of his vest into view, "so you have a nice layered look. Ah, that's better." She stepped back, smiling at him gently, "It suits you, Luke." He gazed down at himself again, trying to get comfortable with the coat instead of the jumper.

Blue, light blue, like clear sunny skies and childhood innocence, like days of laughter and adventure and puzzles, nights of warmth and love and tea with the Professor over talks of ancient cultures and history. Luke hugged himself, drinking in the memories, the reminders drawn up by the blue coat, as though he were a parched man pulled from the desert. He smiled at last, tears collecting at the corners of his eyes. Blue, light blue, like the jumper and cap he wore the last time he saw Professor Layton alive. He would wear it when he made it to the past, to see him again, to save him once and for all.

"It's wonderful, Nazolene. I love it. Thank you." Luke murmured, reaching out to grasp her hands gently with his own, "I'll wear this from now on." And she smiled back, stepping close on her toes to press a little kiss to his cheek.

"I'm glad for you. Now, let's go have some lunch before you bustle off to your project." she whispered and laughed brightly, leading him on by the hand. Luke let himself feel lighter, buoyed by her cheer and the new coat, and he laughed along as he hurried to keep up, free hand holding his hat in place.

 

Luke groaned softly, hand lifting to shield his eyes as he opened them bit by bit. Blurred figures stood around him, and they moved, sighs of relief and joy sounding around him. As his vision cleared, he was able to make out details. Professor Layton stood by his side, Young Luke, Hershel and Flora hung close to him, smiling tearfully down at him.

"Thank goodness. You're awake now, you're all right." Layton murmured, a relieved expression on his face, honey-brown eyes warm with emotion. Luke gave him a puzzled look as he sat up, wincing at a sudden sharp pain in his side. His hand traveled to it, pressing lightly against the bandages wrapped around his torso underneath his shirt. "The doctor said you had a shallow cut, which they've bandaged and should heal within a week or so, and a mild concussion." the Professor went on, reaching out to brush the back of one finger against the bandages circling Luke's head, "You were unconscious by the time the ambulance arrived. You were also very lucky; your injuries could have been much worse."

"What happened? Why did you have to get hurt?" Hershel cried, climbing onto the bed to hug his mentor. Luke returned the embrace loosely and turned his gaze towards the older man.

"I was careless, that's all, Hershel. A gentleman must take pains to not be careless, lest he bring injury to himself or others around him." he told the boy, eyes still on his own mentor. He sighed and let Hershel pull away to climb down, pulling the covers aside to get out himself. Layton seemed about to protest, but he held up a hand, shaking his head lightly. "I'm fine now. Honestly. I cut myself by accident when I drew my knife and jostling about in the Laytonmobile must have clocked me on the head." Luke ended any argument then and there, "Just let me get dressed and we'll head home."

The Professor's mouth thinned again, disapproval clear in his expression, and Luke glanced away to avoid feeling too burned by it. But the older man touched fingers to the brim of his hat and led the children out of the room to give Luke the privacy to change. They only had to wait a short while for him. The time-traveller emerged a few minutes later, straightening his coat with care, a faintly wistful expression on his face as he fingered the lapel.

"Penford?" Layton called questioningly, snapping the older Luke back to attention. Hershel jumped down from his seat and hurried over to his side, staying close enough to give and receive comfort but not so close that it looked like he might be less of a gentleman for it.

"I'm all right now, Professor." Luke reassured the older man as the group began leaving the hospital, "What happened at the house? I got snippets of memory but they don't seem to be very clear." Between the Professor, the two boys and Flora, the story spilled forth in a rush. The Don Paolos had tried to break into the house just moments after Penford raced off, and the children had locked down everything. Hershel took it upon himself to guard Young Luke and Flora while they called for the police, where they learned of the car crash that wrecked the Laytonmobile and put the elder Luke in the hospital. Layton himself drove the scooter back home, where he chased off the two villains by his very appearance and went into the house to comfort the children.

There was a brief stop to chat with the doctors about any further care Luke may need and then they stood together at a bus stop, Young Luke and Flora staying as close to the Professor as they dared while Hershel stuck by Luke's side. Silence hung around them as they all drew themselves into their own thoughts, different perspectives on the events that took place. Layton turned over the various clues and tidbits of information he'd gathered, sifting through them and piecing together the clues that fit. The puzzle was still largely incomplete, but he was getting glimpses of the big picture. He had the feeling he wouldn't be pleased with his deductions when he finally figured it all out. He glanced surreptitiously over at Luke, but the young man's face was a carefully schooled mask of casual expression. The lessons on being a true gentleman were working far too well when it came to reining in emotion.

The silence continued as they boarded the bus and headed for home. Hershel sat close to his mentor, still feeling shaken and trembling. He had never imagined that their little mission in the past-future would have such dire consequences. Those words he said to Rattik and Duke when he first asked them to watch over the house, when he glibly remarked that it wasn't really life or death, seemed to come back and slap him. Those creepy old men, they were trying to do something bad, and they didn't care if someone got hurt or even killed.

"I'll have to call a repairman to collect my car." Layton suddenly murmured, turning his head to gaze across the aisle at Luke, "Hopefully, they'll be able to restore her and we'll discover what exactly was sabotaged." Luke returned his gaze with a half-lidded expression, nodding slightly. Flora and Young Luke simply gasped and looked up at the Professor in shock.

"Sabotage?" the child apprentice blurted out in horror, hunching his shoulders when Layton shushed him quickly, his eyes darting around to be sure no one else heard. Flora lifted her hands to her mouth, shivering and pale. "It must have been the two Don Paolos!" Young Luke murmured softly and turned to look at Hershel for support, "Right, Hershel? Those boys told us that they went into the carport this morning, so they must have done something to the Laytonmobile to make it crash!" Hershel nodded quickly, eyes wide.

"Now isn't the time or place to speak of such things, Luke." Layton reminded firmly, one arm reaching around to rest on the boy's shoulder, patting him a few times comfortingly. His other arm did the same with Flora, and the elder Penford watched with a small smile as the three of them took comfort in the group hug, as chaste as it was with Layton's sense of propriety still in effect. Hershel watched as well, a vague jealousy settling uncomfortably in his core. He blinked when his own teacher rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry. That will be you one day, Hershel. And you'll have what you've always wanted." Luke assured him quietly, "Let's just be sure that our mission succeeds." Hershel nodded, feeling a bit better about things but still faintly worried about why his mentor had gone after the Professor in the first place. Hadn't the 'mission' been about helping the little Luke?

Once home, Luke set to work on making some repairs to the front door despite Layton's protest that he should head straight to bed and rest. Flora chose to stay nearby, just to be sure that if anything happened there would be someone to help. The matching spots of pink on both of their faces didn't give Layton much confidence in the whole venture, so Hershel decided he would stand watch with them as well. If the two Don Paolos decided to return for another assault on the house, Hershel would spot them well in advance.

"Does it hurt badly?" Flora asked in concern, watching the elder Penford tighten the screws that held two slits of metal in place on the door. The puzzle box used them as rails, sliding along them when the need arose to have extra protection over the keyhole.

"It's only a sting now. Nothing I can't ignore for the moment." Luke returned with a faint smile in her direction. The physical pain really was nothing, when compared to the agonizing emotional pain he'd gone through at the Professor's murder, at her abandonment. "I'll be all right, Flora, really. Why don't you check up on the Professor? He's had a few bumps and bruises that he never got around to tending to."

"Ah, that's true!" the girl exclaimed, eyes wide with realization. Luke chuckled, blushing as he stepped aside and opened the door for her. She curtsied briefly and rushed inside, leaving him alone with Hershel. The young Layton looked relieved by her absence, and Luke gave him a mild glare for that.

"Sir Luke?" Hershel questioned hesitantly, as if looking to change the subject. Luke glanced at him briefly, paused once he registered the confused expression on his little face, then pocketed the screwdriver to give him his full attention. "You said you were here to help the little you... the other Luke." Hershel began uncertainly, "But you keep following that Professor around. I don't... I don't quite follow what you're doing."

Luke blinked, then gave him a faintly exasperated smirk, arms akimbo as he gazed down at his apprentice. He supposed he should have realized that if Professor Layton had a keen interest in solving the secret of his true mission, then little Hershel Layton was also going to try unraveling it. He reached out, patting the boy on the shoulder as his smile softened.

"Sometimes, to help a person, you might have to work on fixing things around the person first." he told Hershel carefully, "Namely the most important things around that person. In this time, the young me has only a few very important things around him, so it's easy to... 'fix' them. Once they are the way they're supposed to be, we can go back to where we're meant to be." Hershel squinted at him, and Luke could see the struggle in his eyes as he tried to make sense of his words. They were purposely cryptic; he couldn't reveal too much, even to Hershel. The boy would remember them as an adult, and Professor Layton would have greater insights than he should have because of the younger Layton.

Finally, the boy sighed and took his hat off to scratch his head. "I suppose that makes sense. I think." he admitted and smiled up at the elder Penford, "But you're right. When we fix things and beat the creepy bad men, then we can go home." Luke managed another smile and knocked on the doorjamb.

"Inside, Hershel. I have to change my bandages and I'm sure dinner will be ready soon." he remarked and chuckled as Hershel ran inside eagerly, all smiles and excitement. He watched the boy go, then looked out at London worriedly. Why was Don Paolo accelerating the events? Was he really in that much of a hurry to try to kill the Professor? Didn't he know that the chain of events would just lead him to undergoing study overseas and thus create the Time-Binder? "I've got to figure out this new formula." he sighed and entered the house himself.

Even with the promise of dinner trying to lure him back, Hershel slipped out of the front door only a few minutes after the elder Luke had gone in to tend to his own issues. In his arms were a couple of loaves of bread wrapped in a blue jumper he swiped from Young Luke's room. This was the reward he'd promised Rattik and Duke for keeping an eye on the house, and Hershel intended to ask them to continue keeping their eyes on it. Who knew what else those awful men were planning to do to them all just to get Sir Luke?

He slowed to a halt in the nearby alley where he and Young Luke had met with the Boys earlier that day. Sure enough, Rattik and Duke were there, sitting on rubbish bins as they watched the Layton house. Duke seemed to be growing sleepy, though, his cheek resting against his brother's arm as he drew his legs up into the oversized jumper to keep warm. The older boy blinked down at Hershel when the young Layton crept up to them.

"Pa-parah." he whispered to show he was coming on friendly terms and held up the bundle of bread and clothing to Rattik, "Here. Not much, but it's what I could filch without anyone noticing."

"Blimey, Hawk-Eye, 'smore den I thought would be comin'." the older boy remarked with surprise, taking the bundle in his hands and breaking off a piece of bread to give to Duke, nudging him awake, "'Ey, Duke, here's vittles and a nice jumper what fits you right." The smaller boy fluttered his eyes and opened his mouth to accept the bit of food. "Thanks much, Hawk-Eye." Rattik added, smiling at the young Layton as he fed the piece of bread to his brother, "I'll be breakin' dis wid da rest of da Boys. You get on wid yer chum in Layt'n's house."

"He's not my chum!" Hershel protested, honey-brown eyes wide as his face flushed, "Not... not exactly!" And that was somewhat true; Hershel still had some disdain for Young Luke, but had a great deal of respect and friendship for his future self. Rattik just laughed, shaking his head.

"Bit of advice for ya, Hawk-Eye. Ya find da best chums when things get bolloxed in a bad way. Dey's da ones be staying right by ya, even when dey be scared outta dey's mind." he told the smaller boy and nodded towards the house, "Get on wid ya. Afore some truancy officer picks ya up."

Hershel darted back to the house, one hand holding his hat on as Rattik's words stayed with him despite his scoffing at the idea that he could possibly be friends with Young Luke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (at the bottom)
> 
> "Temporal Slipstream Device:
> 
> Designed by Professor Layton of Layton Technologies, the Temporal Slipstream Device is a focal point generator that streams tachyons through two points of time and links them together, creating a narrow bridge that will allow a traveller to move from time period to time period. It operates by connecting with the Time-Binder to read its current location and time, as well as the destination time, then uses tachyon particles to envelope the immediate area around the Binder until it has been isolated from the current time period. The bridge is forged to the destination and the traveller is slipped into the stream until arriving in a similar isolated pocket of non-time. Once arrival is confirmed by the Time-Binder, the stream is closed from the original period, reversing the flow until the isolated area is released and time begins to flow normally for the traveller.
> 
> As the device is still in its prototype form, travel tends to be heavily reliant on calculating historical events to find the closest point of time where the period is less resistant to intrusion from another time. Professor Layton is currently working towards using tachyons to 'view' time periods for more accurate adjustments to the bridging of timelines. Travel is also a painful experience, as large amounts of energy are used to propel the traveller through the slipstream safely. Common side effects include dizziness, fatigue, nausea if traveling after eating, numbness in the limbs, disorientation, mild to severe headaches, and brief bouts of unconsciousness. The greater the amount of mass moving through slipstream, the more severe the side effects. Professor Layton has pointed out that, for the testing purposes of the Slipstream Device, his own body mass was used as the initial standard and reportedly said after the trial jump of five minutes into the future, that he would next work on making it less painful and 'less of a bloody wretched bitch'."


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The previous chapter, this chapter and all chapters from now on are unbeta'd, so the quality may not be as it had been before. My usual beta reader is now out of contact and unable to spare time to do the reading and editing. Also, no further explanations will be given for anything that may appear to be confusing, as my attempts to explain things before seemed to have backfired on me. You will now have to rely on critical thinking and your own puzzle solving skills to unravel the true depths of the events taking place. I wish you all good luck, as from now on, the puzzles get harder, the mystery deepens, and the true mastermind of this Unwinding Future creeps ever closer from the shadows of shattered time...

More phone calls were made in the morning, both to and from the household. Layton fielded them all while sitting in his home office, his coat hanging on the nearby rack while he wrapped fresh bandages over the scrapes on one arm, sleeve rolled up to give him better access to the injury. He balanced the phone on one shoulder, head tilted to keep it in place while he spoke. Almost as soon as he was done with one call, he would have to deal with another.

"If you send a courier, I'll be able to send the lesson plans to the university and a substitute to review the curriculum with my students. ...No, I do apologize, but I'm in recovery... yes, that was my car that was in the crash. No, I'm all right, just minor injuries, surface injuries... one of my charges was more seriously injured and I'm needed here to keep an eye on him."

With that conversation done, another was soon on the way and Layton winced at hearing the phone ring just as he was carefully tugging the sleeve of his orange shirt down over the wrappings.

"No, Inspector Chelmey, I'd rather you hold off on investigating until I am present to see to the condition of my car. ...Alright; take as many photos as you like, but I will be having repairs done to her once I've arrived. I need my car. ...No, I'm not pressing any charges, I suspect a slipped brake line, something that may have been jarred loose while driving. There's no need to indict some innocent soul over an accident."

When he finally got Chelmey off the phone and finished wrapping another layer of fresh gauze over his other arm, the phone rang again and Layton considered pulling the phone cord out before sighing and picking it up to deal with another caller.

"Pardon? Oh, the young man's name?" The doctor was calling about Penford, wanting his name to put to his records because there hadn't been a chance to ask him and they had called him 'Johnny Everyman' for a short time. Layton cast about helplessly, searching his office for a suitable name to hide Penford's identity. "Lu... Lucas." he finally said, feeling himself deflate a bit at having to resort to a lie again, "Lucas... Triton." There, a name that had no connection at all to Penford and still sounded similar enough that it could pass for real. "He's recovering well, yes. ...Oh, no, sir, I'm perfectly all right myself. Thank you for your concern." He hung up, hung his head for a moment, then lifted the phone from the cradle to call the mechanic that he'd hired the previous day to collect the wrecked car and take it in for repair.

Layton would have to go there himself and see to it that the Laytonmobile was well into being repaired before Chelmey arrived to render his own verdict on what had caused the crash.

Luke sat in the den with a cup of tea in one hand, his notepad in the other, and a frown on his face. He had spent much of his night after dinner working on creating a new formula to try and plan out what the changes in the speed of the historical events would ultimately do to the Professor and himself. Not much luck there; he'd fallen asleep with the notepad resting over his heart and when he awoke, several more pages of his notes had vanished while several others displayed double handwriting when they were blank before. It was disconcerting and frustrating him further was his own memory growing hazier, puzzles and their solutions slipping away like sand through his fingers.

It also didn't help that Young Luke was sitting on Hershel again after a rowdy tussle over the fact that one of the boy's jumpers was found missing and he immediately blamed Hershel for it. Something about admitting he was a thief of sorts in his own time had put the young Layton in the spotlight right off the bat. Flora had looked between him and the boys expectantly, and Luke set his tea and pad aside to deal with the matter at hand.

"Alright, you! Off the twerp!" he declared, pulling his young self off the future Professor rather bodily, "What part of 'Don't break the future' didn't quite make it into your brain?"

"Oi! The Professor paid good money for the clothes he got for me!" Young Luke yelled back, face red with anger and frustration, "Doesn't it mean anything that this stupid bloke just stole a jumper from me? Especially if I'm going to be you one day?" Luke covered his face with one hand, exerting every bit of control he had to keep from snapping, from exploding at the two boys.

"You have plenty of jumpers, Luke, the loss of one is not the end of the world." he finally managed to get out in a rather calm and even tone, emotion reigned in to the point that he sounded almost cold, "So just leave the matter be; it doesn't matter. The Professor will buy you more if you need it, and you can't accuse Hershel of theft without evidence. Can you prove he took your jumper?" Young Luke's cheeks puffed with childish fury, but he managed to also pull in his emotions, though with less control as his elder self.

"N-no..." he bit out reluctantly, shooting a glare at Hershel. The young Layton just looked away, scowling but saying nothing else so as to keep from incriminating himself.

"Then there's no point in spoiling for a fight." Luke lectured and sighed, kneeling to lay his hands on the boy's shoulders, "I've learned that material things can be replaced, so I shouldn't waste my tears or blood on them. What truly matters are the people that are close to my heart. They can't be so quickly forgotten or ever replaced, so it's best to save your strength for helping and protecting them." He managed a small smile, albeit a little sad. "One should be ready and willing to help those who are less fortunate than themselves..."

"Because that's what a gentleman does." both Young Luke and Hershel recited in unison and then looked at one another in surprise. Flora giggled behind her hands at the sight, and the two boys quickly broke eye contact with equally annoyed huffs. Luke just hung his head in exasperation.

The afternoon was spent indoors, sitting together in the den in quiet repose. Young Luke sat on the floor, Indian-fashion, his eyes glued to the telly in awe at the nature programme currently airing. Something about animals again, from what Layton could see of it. The Professor himself relaxed into a soft padded chair, mindful of his sore limbs. He'd already sent the courier with his lesson plans and decided to take the time to recover a little more before heading out into the world, or at least the local mechanic. The workman had already promised to keep his car safely out of sight until Layton could arrive to see the damages for himself before the repairs could be started, for insurance purposes, of course. Layton kept his eyes somewhat closed, open just enough to let him watch over his wards, and it gave him a content, almost sleepy appearance.

Flora also watched the telly with Young Luke, but she sat on the sofa properly, smiling at the animals she found cute on the programme. At the tea table just before her, Hershel sat on the floor as well, focused on working out a puzzle in one of the books that Penford had in his satchel. Layton watched with some interest as his younger self would lift his head from the puzzle to give Young Luke the odd look now and again. Almost as if he was contemplating the other boy. Then he would sense the Professor watching him and quickly bring his eyes back down to the puzzle. Young Luke was completely oblivious, lips moving to form silent words as if to translate the language of the animals on the screen. That left Penford himself, the future Luke; where was he?

Just as Layton thought that, Luke entered the den from the entrance near the stairs, a little paler than usual and his hand drifting from his injured side. He gave the Professor a quick smile, staving off the concerned questions Layton was about to ask, and went to sit in another chair, close to Hershel. Now they were all together, like a temporally inconsistent extended family, and Professor Layton felt the strangest light feeling, a quiet contentment and joy that he hadn't felt before. Was this what it was meant to feel like, to be part of a family that loved one another wholly?

One hand clenched, just out of sight of the others, as if to grab those emotions tight and hide them from his face. A gentleman shouldn't be overly expressive, should be cool and calm and collected, and this was rushing against that shield, wanting to get out and explode somehow. He managed to quell it for now, burying it deep for later. He shouldn't get too worked up over the emotions, not while there's still a few last loose ends to wrap up legally and the mystery of why both Luke and Hershel were in this time period.

Well, Hershel being here was no real mystery. Layton could remember -faintly of course because of the way the Time-Binder was working- hitching a ride into the future by jumping onto Luke just as he made the trip forward. No, the deepest mystery here was why Luke had come from the future to the past. He spent most of his time following Layton around, but was also very protective of Hershel. Luke didn't appear to have changed much compared to how Young Luke behaved, save for his tendency to speak in riddles when Layton pressed him subtly for information. It was very much like he wanted to say why he was there, but had convinced himself not to divulge his mission details, so the cryptic speeches were all he could manage to get out.

"I don't like this puzzle." Hershel grumbled, getting up from the floor to squirm into place at Luke's side. The workbook was rolled up in his hand, and the boy managed to fit himself in just under the elder Penford's arm, resting comfortably against his left side. He unrolled the thin workbook as Luke gave him a small wry grin.

"Oh? And why not?" he questioned. Hershel pointed at the pictures in the puzzle he'd been working on, scowling.

"There's a pistol in it. I don't like guns." he returned almost bitterly, "It's like the one the creepy old man used back home." Luke sighed, patting him on the shoulder comfortingly. They were both reminded of the black rifle on the Layton Estate, the very one that was melted down to become the black rapier that was always at Luke's side in his own time.

"Well it's gone now, Hershel. Don't worry about it." the young scientist told him and took the book in his own hands, flipping through the pages, "Let's find another puzzle for you." He smiled as Hershel leaned in to poke his fingers into the book, stopping on a puzzle that caught his eye. "This one?" Luke asked with an amused tone, "It's a very old puzzle, dated back to the days when Africa was wild and filled with faces as dark as night, decked in gold and furs. That's also where this puzzle was first discovered."

"Mm." Hershel muttered a small sound, recognizing that his mentor had said something but more interested in the puzzle itself. "Pale as moonlight, veiled with mist, stars and secrets bow in bliss. Serene as the calmest lake, mystery washes in the wake. To this land, a rarity. Answer now, the identity." he read aloud and frowned, looking up at Luke. "I don't understand this. Does it want me to say what possesses all these qualities?" he asked. Luke blinked and read the puzzle himself, nodding slowly.

"It's one of those 'What is this?' puzzles. I tried solving it myself; see, this workbook has one of those thinking stamps embedded in this page." he replied, moving his hand to tap on a dark square set in the top left corner of the page, "Future technology... it scans the answer and then responds with colored light if it is correct or not. So far, I've never been right."

Hershel frowned again, looking a little troubled. "Has anyone solved it?" he asked and Luke shook his head, "It's really that hard?"

"In my time, there is nothing conceivable that possesses all those qualities and is considered 'correct'." the elder Penford returned and gave him a wry grin, "The picarat score on it fell drastically for me. I doubt I'll earn anything now."

Hershel gave the puzzle a suspicious look, then closed the book and hugged it to his chest, settling back to watch the telly while curled next to his mentor. Luke was grateful that something else had taken priority in the boy's mind. The less he pondered over Luke's reasons for following Layton around, the less likely the Professor would glean extra information and insight from his past self.

"Oh! Professor! I found a puzzle!" Young Luke exclaimed happily, scrambling from his seat on the floor to run to his own mentor. Hershel sat up in surprise, watching him go with wide eyes before looking back at the telly in confusion. He didn't see a puzzle anywhere; where had the other boy found one? He looked to Luke for an explanation, but he looked just as surprised.

"I didn't see it." he whispered, a worried expression on his face, "Why didn't I see it?"

Layton noticed the concerned look on Luke's face, but couldn't act on it. Young Luke was at his side, scribbling down the puzzle on a piece of paper so he could see it as well. Watching the boy write out the conditions of the puzzle, that same feeling from before began making itself known again in Layton. The Professor blinked, seeing the small boy in a new light, a sense of awe settling over him as the full impact of what he had done in the past few days finally reached him.

He wanted to say something, wanted to call out to Young Luke and share what he'd done, share in the joy that he was feeling... but he held back, fingers digging into the arms of his chair in his effort to contain himself. Why? Why couldn't he bring himself to say anything?

Gripping his chair so tightly irritated the sore muscles of his arms, and Layton sighed in faint frustration, lifting his hands to rub gently at the bound injuries. Young Luke finished writing and turned to hold up the puzzle with a bright smile, eager to share it with him. The Professor managed a smile at the boy, thanking him quietly as he took the paper in hand.

"Well, now, let's have a look." he remarked, pausing as a new-old memory filtered in and settled in place. He remembered sharing a puzzle with his own mentor, curled against his good side and feeling warm and comforted by the proximity. It wasn't very gentlemanly, but he hadn't cared at the time, more concerned with giving and receiving affection the only way he knew how back then. With the way Young Luke was looking over at Hershel and Penford with a faint longing in his expression, Layton could easily guess that he might want to do the same. And again, he held back, some inner voice quailing against such contact. It was improper, not the way a gentleman behaved, and Layton felt a bit of regret and hurt for both himself and the little boy in the blue jumper as he lowered his arms to block any attempt on Young Luke's part to emulate Hershel. He focused his gaze on the puzzle, not wanting to catch the flinch of rejection in the boy's eyes but seeing it anyway.

"Now, this puzzle seems to..." Layton began, but Young Luke pulled away, wandering off as if in disinterest.

"If it's all right with you, Professor, I think I'll head to bed early. I'm not feeling up to working on a puzzle myself." the boy announced dully and made his way to the stairs, "Penford, I really don't want to ask you this because you're hurt and everything, but could you make supper for everyone?"

Luke lifted his head, gaze refocusing after a moment, as though he'd been distracted by his own thoughts or memories, and nodded in agreement. Flora pouted, cheeks red with indignation.

"I can help make supper, too, Luke!" she told the little boy, hands clenched up into little fists that she shook in ladylike outrage, "Why don't you ever ask me to cook?"

"Because we actually want to eat." Hershel pointed out dryly and stuck his tongue out when the girl turned her indignant look on him, her cheeks puffed.

"Oooh! How mean!" she returned, and Luke carefully stood up, pulling away from Hershel -much to the young Layton's surprise- before heading to the kitchen, one hand lifting to his head as if to stave off a migraine.

Layton watched the two Lukes leave the den, feeling rather dejected with the way things had turned out. That warm and loving feeling from earlier had dissipated now, replaced by a chill and distant one. And as he rubbed his thumb lightly against the paper that Young Luke had written the puzzle on for him, the Professor couldn't help but accept the knowledge that it had been entirely his fault.


	28. Chapter 28

It was another two days before Layton decided that both he and Penford were of sound enough health that they could make the trip to the mechanic's workshop and see how the repairs were going. He made another call to let the man know they would be arriving, and frowned a little when the mechanic reported that Chelmey had been by shortly after their first talk on the phone, taking photographs and demanding a report on what was damaged and what was repaired. Layton sighed, hoping that the brake-line had been repaired early, and thanked the mechanic for the information.

"The repairs will be complete soon." Penford said suddenly and Layton looked up to see the young man standing near the door of his office with Hershel at his side. In Luke's hand was the golden pocket-watch; he was gazing down at its face as if checking the time with a disinterested air. He flicked the lid back down and pocketed the watch, looking up at the Professor with an enigmatic smirk. "Best be on our way, Professor. Mustn't keep Time waiting." he remarked.

"Time waits for no man, Luke." Layton corrected, getting up from his desk to grab his cloak and hat from the tall pole that held both in place while he was working.

"But she is a patient mistress, and will deign to hold her breath until the pieces are in place for her next move." the time-traveller returned with that same smirk. Layton paused in the middle of sliding on his cloak, blinking at the young man in surprise. Was that... had he just revealed another clue? Another hint to the true nature of his mission and the strange watch with its thirteen hours? "Come on, Hershel, let's get Flora and Young Luke ready to go." Luke remarked to his own apprentice. Hershel nodded and followed his mentor out of the office, but not before turning to stick his tongue out at Layton.

"Quit making Sir Luke so sad! Daft old man!" the boy snapped and darted off at the sharp bark of his name from Luke. Layton opened his mouth to protest, reaching out to the absent boy before letting his hand fall helplessly. What was going on? He hadn't done anything to Penford, had he? He searched his own memory of the past three days, but he couldn't recall a moment where he had misconducted himself with the young man. Luke had been rather aloof and distant from him, as if caught in a distraction of his own mind.

Bemused and disheartened by the strange turn of events that was causing what had been a warm and comfortable home to turn into a house of unrest, Layton picked up his hat and slipped it on, mouth set in a thin line as he headed out.

Luke and Hershel sat together on the bus, across the aisle from Layton, Flora and Young Luke. It was something of a habit that was growing on them, keeping a short distance between themselves and the Professor's group while still being close enough to watch over them. Hershel still had the workbook in his hands, open to the page with the puzzle that had confounded them both earlier in the week. Luke had his gaze on Layton and his past self for a short part of the bus ride before turning to prod at Hershel.

"Huh?" the young Layton pulled himself out of his thoughts on the puzzle to look up at his mentor, honey-brown eyes wide with innocence, "Is something the matter, Sir Luke?"

"I've got an important little job only you can do." Luke told him with a smile, "Think you're up for it?" Hershel lit up, nodding eagerly. Any chance to prove himself a capable apprentice to the elder Penford was welcome, and he jumped at those opportunities.

"Course I am! You can count on me!" he returned cheerfully and blinked as Luke lifted a finger to his lips to shush him. "Oh?"

"I can't be with my younger self or Flora today, or things won't go as they were meant to." the time-traveller whispered knowingly, "So I'll need you to stay close to the young me." Hershel's expression fell a little and Luke pat his shoulders lightly, "Now, now. Don't be like that! What happens today could shape how I'll be tomorrow; that's the tricky thing about Time. Stay close to Young Luke and be sure he's safe. Don't let him out of your sight." He paused, thinking something over, then added in a low voice, "And don't eat the treats. I'll make you some sweets once we're home again."

Hershel looked confused, but slowly nodded, giving Young Luke a begrudging glare that had Luke chuckle softly. "Look at it this way, Hershel." the young man murmured, "You're protecting me, so please take care of me."

"Oh, well when you put it that way..." Hershel sighed dramatically and the two of them laughed together over it.

Across from them, Young Luke glanced in their direction enviously, wishing he could have that kind of rapport with the Professor. The past few days felt like he was being pushed away from the man, and it hurt quite a bit. It made him worry more over what he might have done wrong, where he might have failed as an apprentice. Perhaps it took this long for the Professor to realize that a boy adept at science would never truly grasp all the nuances of history, and now he was taking steps to have him be sent away.

Young Luke wondered if he should start taking his own steps, storing up all the good memories and warm feelings for later in his life, maybe put those gentleman lessons to further use in hiding the hurt. If the Professor was going to grow colder, then maybe he should too. Then when the headmistress came to pick him up, he wouldn't feel so bad. Maybe. He would still miss the Professor, and Flora too.

Flora was humming a little song as she read a book beside him, glancing towards the elder Penford now and again with a little blush. Young Luke looked up at her, half-hoping she would smile down at him too. He'd never felt so alone, even while he was surrounded by the people he considered like family.

And back across the way, Luke gave a little shudder, fingers rising quickly to pinch the bridge of his nose as a sudden sharp pain raced through his head. Hershel gave a soft little cry of worry, falling silent when his mentor lifted a hand to quiet him. Luke pulled his fingers away after a few moments, a vaguely confused expression on his face that quickly faded once his eyes refocused. He shook his head, gave Layton's group a sharp and suspicious glare, then pulled out the Time-Binder to check the time.

A quarter of the Hour had passed, and the alarm light deepened in color. Things were going awry, and Luke still had no clue why.

The mechanic was a stout man, with eyebrows so bushy they hid his eyes, and a body the shape of a barrel, muscular arms making him look comically top-heavy. Tufts of blue-gray hair stuck out randomly from under his hat, and both young boys drifted to hiding behind their respective mentors, peering around them at the mechanic.

"Wot wot? Yer car? Eh, yessir, Profess'r. Almost done with 'er. Jes a few last kinks to work out." the man reported gruffly, "Buff out the body, paint, get the wheels proper, all that rot. Shouldn't take more 'n another hour or so. Got me boys working on 'er now. Care t' take a look?"

Layton glanced over his motley group of charges, a bit torn between going along and wanting to stay back to be with them. It wouldn't do at all to drag his little apprentice and Flora through the workshop; it was dirty and full of things that could hurt them, and poor Flora would be the only lady in the area, far too much of a temptation for the 'boys' working on the Laytonmobile. And there was no way he would allow Penford to come along either, him or his own apprentice. If Hershel was harmed in the shop somehow, it could be disastrous for his own health; Penford was still susceptible to infection because of the cut on his side, despite his assurances that it was healing just fine.

Apparently, Penford had already thought of something, if that confident little smile had anything to say about it. One of his hands was curled over his chin as though he was in consideration of the matter. "Sir, would you possibly have a waiting room nearby? We have with us three persons who don't really need to be exposed to the potential hazards of of your profession." Luke remarked amiably, "Surely you can agree that the best place for two little schoolboys and a proper lady would be in a sun room or den. The Professor and I will be most delighted to see how you've done with the car."

Both Layton and Young Luke looked at him with some surprise and suspicion while the mechanic's eyebrows lifted, the man harrumphing in response as he scratched his head through his hat. "Eh? S'pose that's right, yessir." he agreed after a minute. He looked around, a feat that involved twisting in place as his stout figure seemed to have swallowed up his neck, then waddled his way to a nearby door. Opening it, he peered through, scratched his head again, then nodded.

"There's some chairs on the stoop there, nice 'n airy. Got a good view of the garden, 's quiet." he pointed out, stepping aside so Layton could move outside and survey the surroundings himself. The stoop was tidy and there were several chairs in place, set around a low table with a broken leg that was held up with a fat little book. From where he stood, the Professor could look out at the small front garden in front of the blue-collar business, the sidewalk where people walked, and the rest of the street and other businesses. It was open and pleasant-looking, and Layton gave the area a more thorough search, eyes narrowed as he focused on any possible threats.

Hershel stepped along lightly towards him, doing the same thing as he set his own little satchel down in a chair and took a seat. The two met gazes for a moment and nodded almost in perfect synch; it was agreed, this place was safe.

"It's rather quaint and lovely." Flora remarked, looking around herself as Luke escorted her out to the stoop, Young Luke on her other side and holding her hand as he gave the décor a decidedly unimpressed glare.

"It's rubbish." he muttered under his breath and looked up at the Professor pitifully, "I want to go with you, Professor! Why does Penford get to go? It's because he's older than me, isn't it?"

"I'm not going because Sir Luke said it's better I stay here. I listen to my teacher, so that makes me better than you~." Hershel taunted, swinging his legs back and forth from his chair. Luke managed to hold back a wide smile at that, hiding a smirk behind his curled hand as he gave the young Layton a wink to acknowledge his trick. Sure enough, his past self fell for it, cheeks puffed up indignantly at the challenge.

"Oi! I'll show you who's the best apprentice!" Young Luke declared and marched over to another chair, hopping into it and folding his arms over his chest, "I bet I can stay here the longest!" Flora giggled at their antics, folding her dress in as she took a seat for herself.

"Let's make a game of this waiting." she suggested with a twinkle in her eyes, "I made this one up while I was in the tower in St. Mystere. I'll name a color and you boys tell me how many things you see around us that is that color, all right?"

Layton found himself smiling in relief as Penford walked back through the door into the workshop again. That had gone much better than he'd thought. He turned as well, ready to enter the workshop himself, when he paused in sudden consideration. It all felt a little too prepared, too planned. Had Penford known about the waiting area all along? He must have; Young Luke would be staying there with Flora. But why leave Hershel behind?

"Don't think too hard on it, Professor." Luke's voice cut into Layton's thoughts. He looked up from his musings to blink at the smirking young man following the mechanic. "I know I can count on you." Luke added and beckoned him to follow before turning to face forward again. Layton fell into step behind him, that feeling of bemusement settling over him again. Why say that? Why would Luke have confidence in him at this moment?

A glint of gold caught his eye, and his gaze focused on the shape of the pocket-watch tucked into Luke's coat pocket. Layton lifted a hand, weighing his options as he looked at it. Could a hint to the puzzle be in the watch? Before he could convince himself otherwise, Layton reached out and expertly slipped his hand into Luke's pocket, palming the watch and sliding it into his sleeve as he raised his hand to his chin, curling his fingers into his usual thoughtful pose for a cover.

The elder Penford didn't even twitch, a testament to Layton's pickpocketing skills from his youth. He had to bite back the urge to correct himself, confess his crime and return the watch. No, he had to know what was going on. The longer Luke and little Hershel remained out of synch with Time's flow, the more dangerous it became for them all. He had to know why Penford was here, so as to hurry him on his way to returning his child self and then to the future. And he was going to make sure he remembered all this so he could give Luke the lecture he needed once he was home again!

"No, no, no! If I have to count any more things that are pink, I'm going to go bloody mad!" Hershel declared after about an hour's worth of Flora's game. He threw his hands up to hold his head as if it were about to explode, and Luke rolled his eyes, slumping back in his chair. For that hour of playing the color game, he'd forgotten about his little rivalry with the other apprentice. Then he went and complained and reminded Luke of how much of a snot he was.

"Well, I'm not quite as good as Luke or the Professor when it comes to puzzles." Flora remarked, looking a bit flustered, "So I don't have anything else to pass time, except for reading."

"We could go exploring." Luke suggested in a bored tone, swinging his legs back and forth as he stayed slouched in his seat. "I could probably find a puzzle or two if we poked around here."

"No!" Hershel blurted out, eyes wide. He clapped his hands over his mouth as the other two waiting with him looked at him curiously. Oh, this was awkward. Sir Luke told him to look after the little Luke, but did that mean he would fail if Young Luke didn't stay in his chair the whole time? He tried to think what else his teacher told him, what other clues he got to help him figure out how long he had to keep an eye on the other boy. Something about not letting him out of his sight, keep him safe... and don't eat the treats. Treats? What treats?

"Gosh, are you going to be contrary all day?" Luke demanded of him, sitting up straight so he could plant his fists on his hips, "I can't believe you're going to grow up to be the great Professor Layton I'm learning from, acting like a spoiled brat!"

"And I can't believe you're going to grow up to be Sir Luke, being such a thick-headed bloke, so we're even!" Hershel shot back, gripping the armrests of the wicker chair he'd taken for his own seat, "But we're supposed to stay put here, so we can't go anywhere!"

"Maybe your teacher told you to stay, but the Professor didn't say anything about it to me or Flora!"

"Please, stop fighting!" Flora finally cried, hands folded over her heart in distress, "We're supposed to all be friends!" Both Hershel and Luke stared at her in disbelief before looking at one another with frowns.

"What if we don't want to be friends?" Hershel pointed out petulantly, arms folded over his chest. Luke mirrored him, nodding almost furiously.

"Yeah! What if we decide we're never gonna be friends?" the blue-clad boy declared. Flora looked between the two, taken aback by their words, then took on a saddened expression.

"Then the future won't be the way it is now." she murmured tearfully, lifting a finger to wipe away the tears as they began to fall, "The way it's meant to be." Hershel stiffened at her words, eyes snapping to her face as he listened, really listened, to her words. She was sounding an awful lot like Sir Luke, talking about the future like that. "Professor Layton and Luke are supposed to be good friends. If the two of you decide not to ever be friends, then the grown up versions of you won't be friends either." Flora went on sorrowfully, "And that's the saddest puzzle I've ever solved."

The two boys remained silent, watching her tremble in the only soft-padded chair on the stoop. Hearing about that possible consequence of their fights didn't sit well with them. For Hershel, the idea of not being friends with his teacher stung; Sir Luke was always so proud of him, in ways that his own father wasn't or ignored. He didn't want to lose that. He needed that kind of caring and love, craved it from an older father figure, and if his real father didn't give it to him, then Sir Luke would.

For Luke, the thought of Professor Layton wanting nothing to do with him was a slap in the face, more so with the events happening lately. Maybe this was what triggered it? Not being friends with Hershel might have stayed with him until he became the Professor, and now the Professor wanted him gone. Flora was right; that was a horrible puzzle.

"I'm sorry." a small voice suddenly broke the silence, jerking Luke out of his demoralizing thoughts. He lifted his head in confusion.

"Huh?" was all that came out of his mouth. Hershel sat in his own wooden chair, hat in his hands and looking rather pitiful, eyes focused on the low table that the chairs surrounded.

"I said I was sorry, okay?" the young Layton bit out, glaring at the table now, "What I said before, about not being friends... let's just forget about that." He turned the hat in his hands, around and around, still refusing to look up at the other boy. "Sir Luke is my friend, and he means a lot to me, and if fighting so much with you means that he might not be my friend anymore, then I'm not doing it." Hershel finally lifted his gaze, giving Young Luke a determined look despite his own eyes shining with tell-tale wetness. "It's bloody stupid!" he yelled, startling Flora, "And if you want to be friends with your snobby old Professor, then maybe you should stop fighting with me too! So let's stop!"

"Quit calling the Professor snobby! He's the nicest, smartest, greatest man in all of London!" Luke shot back and rubbed at his eyes, "But fine, I'll stop too." Flora let out a happy cry, clapping her hands together as if her tears had never been.

"That's much better! And now all that's left is for you two to become friends, real friends!" she exclaimed cheerfully, oblivious to the twin eye-rolling of the little boys.

"But I'm still bored." Luke sighed, flopping back in his chair and kicking at the air uselessly, "I want to go exploring and look for puzzles."

"We can't leave the stoop." Hershel protested stubbornly. Especially since there were supposed to be treats and none was around and until they appeared, he wouldn't know how long he was supposed to keep watch over the other boy.

"Let's make a compromise. What if we explored really close to the steps for a little bit, and then came back?" Flora asked of Hershel, giving him an amused smile. He shook his head, pouting.

"I don't see why I have to stay here when Penford said for you to stay." Luke grumbled. Hershel opened his mouth to retaliate, but then paused as a thought occurred to him. Sir Luke said that his young self had to stay on the stoop, but Hershel himself didn't have to be there; he just had to be near enough to see where Young Luke was, that's all. What if there was a way to have him be on the stoop and also out exploring nearby?

"Hmm." Hershel mused aloud, curling his fingers over his mouth thoughtfully. It was like a puzzle.

Luke wanted to go and explore, but Hershel was told that Luke must sit on the stoop. Hershel could go anywhere he liked as long as he could see where Luke was, but he had no reason to leave the stoop. Both were stubborn little boys. How could Hershel fix it so there would be a Luke on the stoop while he was exploring?

"Blimey, you really do look like the Professor when you do that!" Luke breathed in surprise, leaning forward in his chair, "Does Penford do it too? Does he look like the Professor when he does it?"

"Maybe if he wore a hat and coat like the Professor." Flora suggested laughingly, and Hershel cried out in surprise. That's it! That's how they could do it!

"Ah hah! Every puzzle has an answer!" he exclaimed and held up his hat, pointing at it, "This is how you can be on the stoop and still explore! I won't get in trouble and we'll be able to play a brill trick on Sir Luke and your Professor, too!"

Luke blinked at him, not quite getting the other boy's idea. Hershel sighed, rolling his eyes again before hopping out of his chair and hurrying over to whisper into his ear. As he listened to Hershel's plan, Luke started nodding, then looked surprised, then finally looked eager and mischievous, nodding so hard and fast that his head should have rolled right off his neck.

"That really is a brilliant idea!" he agreed and laughed behind his hands, "We'll be just like Don Paolo and his masks! Flora!" The girl jumped, curious by the sudden changes in mood and now looking expectantly at the two of them. "Could you cover your eyes for a few minutes? Please?" Luke asked, "We want to set up this trick, but we can't with you watching."

"And while we're at it, we'd better stay really quiet and not say a word." Hershel added, grinning at his new accomplice, "Otherwise, the trick won't work. Vow of silence! Spit on it!" He spat into one hand and held it out. Luke wrinkled his nose at first, then shrugged and did the same with his own hand before grabbing Hershel's to shake on it. "Then let's get started!"


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Dedicated to RenegadeVagabond, ghostgirl45, wakamolez, and all those who waited patiently for further installments of this story. Though circumstances in my life are hinting that I should halt all fanfiction writing for some indeterminable amount of time, I'm still trying to put together what chapters I can during the short bursts of free time I can get. Wish me luck on the rest!"

Grumbling and swearing under his breath, Don Paolo set the basket of treats down on the grass to free his hands for pulling on his disguise. Maestro leaned back against a nearby tree, chuckling to himself as he watched the minutes tick down on the face of the rust-stained watch in his hand. They'd enacted their first attempt to do away with Professor Layton earlier in the week, cutting the brakes of his precious car so he'd crash and burn with it. They had done the same with the lawyer that had started the process of changing over his apprentice's papers, but it seemed as if the ginger was already onto them, impossible as it seemed. Instead of taking the sabotaged car home from work, Mr. Riley hopped a bus and called for a lorry to take it in for repair.

Don Paolo had been stumped but Maestro had only gnashed his cigar butt in a fury before declaring his intent to once more 'get Layton for this'. Honestly, Don Paolo couldn't figure how Layton was involved in Riley escaping death when he bungled right into his own rigged car so carelessly.

Except, that wasn't quite a bungle, now was it? Layton had shown up at the house before they could get past that second lock and grab the boy and girl inside. He was supposed to have been with the car, the tracking device they'd planted on it had told them he was a good five miles out. But no, there he was, ruining things again.

At least Maestro had an alternate plan of attack, chuckling like he knew everything that had happened was preordained. The tracker still worked, and it led them here, to this mechanic's workshop, where the old man revealed a basket of cookies and cakes that made Don Paolo want to gag.

"Dress like a sweet old lady and deliver these to the children on the stoop." Maestro told him gruffly, handing the basket off to him and exchanging his spent cigar for a fresh one, "I've laced them with sleeping drops so they won't raise a fuss. Once they're asleep, get the Penford boy. Forget the girl, the boy's more valuable."

"Even being Lenora's son, how is that brat more valuable than an orphaned baroness?" Don Paolo demanded, setting the basket down and searching under his cloak for a suitable old woman disguise. Maestro slowly lowered the lid of his pocket-watch until it clicked into place before turning his hand to show it off to the other man.

"Who do you think created this?" he asked in return, lips pulling back in an ugly smile.

Penford was taking the lead in chatting up the mechanic, eyes bright as they pointed out various parts of the Laytonmobile's engine and inner workings and conversed about the possibilities of improved performance and other modifications. The stuff of science; Layton noticed how the young man lit up about the subject and seemed to withdraw when history was mentioned. Very much the opposite of his younger self, which was another puzzle in and of itself.

Pulling his eyes away from the scene before him -and giving the workshop a quick surveying to be sure nothing else was going on-, Layton flicked his wrist at his side and let the Time-Binder slide into his palm. A tiny click and the lid was open. He let his arm stay at his side, and tilted the watch enough to glance at its face.

Six-thirty, and the face was glowing a soft green color. That didn't seem normal. The first time he'd seen the watch, it was white. The change in color must mean something. More time had passed which meant more events had taken place since he'd last laid eyes on the hands of the watch. What were those events, and why was Luke keeping such a close eye on them?

The only reasoning Layton could come up with was certain events needed to take place in a certain order, and Luke wanted to be on the scene as each event took place. He remembered the young man's words in the car when it was going out of control, how the crash of the Laytonmobile was meant to happen, but the Professor being hurt was not and that was why he was pushed out. That changed the reasoning a little; certain events needed to take place, but some outside force was putting in new events. Luke wanted to be on the scene to ensure the correct events took place and prevent the additional ones.

This was only possible if Luke already knew all the events that were meant to take place and thus the final event that was probably the thirteenth hour of the watch. Something special must happen at that final hour, something that Luke wanted to ensure would happen. Layton found himself wanting to help keep that mystery timeline of events on track. It would just be easier if he knew what the rest of the hours represented.

"Fuel like that would gunk up the pistons, boy." the mechanic said, responding to something Luke had commented on during the Professor's thoughts, "Ye'd need a whole new system of burnin' fuel t' handle something like what yer proposin'."

"Advancements in vehicular technology is something I took an interest in when I was younger." Luke returned with a smile, hands moving animatedly as he talked, "I bet with the experience you and your sons have combined, you could help a certain company make those advancements a reality. I should give you..." He stopped abruptly, eyes wide as a hand lifted to clap over his mouth. The mechanic's eyebrow lifted, waiting for the rest of his words while Layton drifted close to his car, half-feigning interest in how the engine repairs had gone.

A quick flick of his wrist and the pocket-watch sailed silently through the air to slip back into Luke's pocket without even a whisper.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. Please forgive me, my thoughts tend to run away with my mouth." Luke finally said apologetically, bringing his hand down and smiling sheepishly, "The possibilities are there, I assure you, but maybe you should try to work on it yourself first? I wouldn't have the skill to make those advancements but I have every confidence that you will."

Maybe he was trying to cover himself, but Layton had already picked up on another clue from Luke's words. He smiled, patting the young man on the shoulder and chuckling at the little jump he gave at the contact. "I'm sure their future will be bright, my boy." he remarked, noting the slight flinch Luke couldn't quite hide, "My good man, you've done a wonderful job repairing my car. You can't even tell she's been in an accident." Layton ran a hand along the hood of the car. The mechanic's sons were already pulling out from underneath, waving a signal to show that the work was complete.

"If that were an accident, then I'm a flippin' fop." the stout man grumbled, digging into his pocket and pulling out a small black box. "Brake's been damaged, accelerator's been tampered with and this thing was stuck under the driver's side." He held it out for Layton to take into his hand, "If I had found it when the Inspector was here..."

"He'd have the grounds to open an investigation, yes." the Professor agreed in a soft, grim tone, "I can't have that happen. There are far too many things that are unknown..."

"That's how he knew where we were!" Luke suddenly gasped, staring at the device in Layton's hand, "But that device doesn't belong here!" His hand dove into his pocket, obviously to grab his watch. "The first time... he came ahead of me before I even unlocked the gate... someone else is setting this up!" he babbled, one hand grabbing his forehead in shock as the other gripped his watch like a safety blanket, "We didn't... I didn't...!"

The mechanic and his sons looked like they wanted to call for help, looking around for a phone. Layton pocketed the device quickly and reached out to steady the heavily-shaken young man. Had something gone wrong with the way he had planned the timeline of events? But Luke already had all the historical data he needed to know these things, both of their memories would have...

No, wait. What if Layton himself withheld the fact that the strange device was found on his car? Young Luke wasn't here to witness it; he was waiting outside with Flora and Hershel.

Unless, Luke meant from his view. If he as Penford and Hershel had never been here from his own initial memories, that meant there was only Flora with him on the stoop, who also had no information, so there was no one to tell him what Layton had pocketed.

No advance warning.

"This is the next event!" Layton breathed in sudden realization. The watch said six-thirty, so maybe it was ticking off the length of time Luke had to ensure an event took place. Something was going to happen, was happening, and the time-traveller was in no shape to do what needed to be done. "Penford! What's happening?" Layton exclaimed, gripping the young man's shoulders, "Tell me so I can help you... ah!"

A sudden searing pain tore through his mind, and he jerked his hands away to clutch at his head, crying out as he dropped to his knees, his top hat falling to the wayside. He felt hot and cold all at once, burning and freezing and so full of pain Layton couldn't think straight at all. What was happening? What was going on?

"Professor! Professor!"

He fell the rest of the way to the floor and felt his mind split in two, unable to tell if he was screaming or not, if he was even moving or not. It was like being paralyzed and tortured while facing the most difficult puzzle of his life.

Who was he?

And then it was gone, and Layton blinked in surprise as Penford stared up at his face in fright and confusion. The mechanic and his sons had rushed to a nearby phone and looked to them expectantly, waiting for a sign that they should go ahead and dial the emergency number.

"Professor? Are you alright?" Luke questioned in alarm, "Your eyes went out of focus." Layton raised a hand, touching fingers to his forehead as he pulled his thoughts back in order, realizing that he hadn't fallen at all and was still standing on his own two feet.

"Professor... yes, that's right." he murmured a little more surely, "I'm a professor of archaeology." Penford gave him a sharp and suspicious glare.

"Of course you are. What made you think otherwise?" he questioned and Layton shook his head, an uncertain expression on his face. "This doesn't seem right..." Luke waved at the mechanic and his sons, "Don't call anyone! This is strictly a personal matter! Just have the Laytonmobile released from the couplings and ready to leave!" With those three now occupied with another task, he pulled out his watch and checked the time, staring in shock at the now yellow color of its face. "No! What's happened now?"

If things had gone the way they were meant to, Luke would have sensed the new-old memory settling into place of being dragged away from Flora and Hershel in a stupor. But it wasn't there, just another memory, strange and half-formed. The idea of playing a trick on the Professor, swapping places...

Swapping places!

"Hershel!" Luke exclaimed in horror, understanding dawning on him and bringing a sense of horrible dread. He dashed off, hoping and praying he was wrong, and left the startled Professor behind as he made for the stoop where Flora and the two young boys had been left.

Only two people were there in the chairs, slumped back and limbs loose.

"Hershel!" the time-traveller cried again, rushing for the little figure clad in brown coat and top hat, his chin resting on the little orange shirt and brown vest he'd picked out for the day. Behind him, Layton finally caught up and inhaled sharply at the lack of a little boy in blue. He looked around sharply, searching the surroundings for a flash of light blue.

"Luke! Luke, where are you?" he called out as the elder Penford slowly lowered the little top hat and tightened his mouth into a grim line.

"Professor." he said, straightening up and turning to catch the other man's attention, "Over here." Layton looked to him, then down at the tiny figure before catching his breath, eyes wide.

Young Luke dozed in his seat, the crumbs of a recently gobbled sugar biscuit still speckling his face and dropping onto the little brown vest that Hershel had worn that day. After a quick examination told the Professor he was only asleep -sedated- and no other harm had come to him, he turned his gaze to the tray of sweets resting on the table nearby, several of the treats already gone. His mouth thinned tightly, putting two and two together, then looked up at Penford, taking in the young man's grim expression.

"He convinced Luke into changing clothes with him." the time-traveller muttered darkly, "I told him not to eat the sweets, but I suppose I should have expected Hershel to ignore such a command when actually faced with the treats. And neither of the Don Paolos bothered to check faces; just grabbed for the identifying clothing. They should be on their way to East End by now." Layton straightened abruptly, whirling about to face the young man.

"Do you mean to say that you were meant to be kidnapped today?" he declared in a mix of shock and anger, "Is this the event you were tracking, Penford? Why didn't you warn me of this? I would have left you and the children at home in safety!" The elder Luke gazed coldly back at him, the Time-Binder gripped lightly in one hand, the other in his pocket in a deceptively casual stance.

"You really don't disappoint when it comes to your deductions, Professor. However, jumping to conclusions is unbecoming of you, don't you suppose?" he returned, eyes narrowing, "There's no point in trying to change the events when you have no idea of the consequences. You're not qualified." He turned sharply, the ends of coat fluttering with the motion. "Obviously you're in no condition to do anything about this, and there's no need for you to come to my rescue if I was never taken. Stay here and watch the two of them. I have to go after Hershel." And without giving Layton a chance to protest, Luke ran for the street, throwing the capsule containing his scooter ahead of himself.

Layton glared after the rapidly disappearing Penford, frustration swirling within him alongside the helpless feeling that he had somehow failed to be of any assistance. At least he'd learned what was supposed to have happened; Luke was to eat the drugged sweets and be kidnapped, prompting the Professor to come to the rescue. How was that of any historical importance? Why was it included in the list of events?

Young Luke mumbled something in his sedated state, catching his attention, and Layton immediately turned back to the boy guiltily. He really wasn't turning out to be much of a father figure, and there was a flash of anger towards his own father for being such a poor example. Kneeling before the boy still dozing in his chair, Layton reflected on just how close he'd been to losing his apprentice. If Hershel hadn't convinced him to change clothes...

And here, the Professor's thoughts came to a halt, realization dawning. When events changed and new memories were formed, they slipped into place in the elders. But this was the first time that an event meant for Luke happened to Hershel instead. Had the episode in the workshop been a result of the switch? Layton's frown tightened a little more, concerned for them all. Time travel was proving to be more dangerous with each of these mysterious hours that passed by.

In retrospect, eating the sweets from a seemingly kind old lady who smelled of smoke had not been the best idea.

Hershel woke slowly to find the distasteful feeling of a cotton-dry mouth and a headache. He kept his eyes closed, however, recognizing that he was no longer where he'd been before. Hands bound behind his back and resting in the backseat of a moving vehicle, it dawned on the young Layton that he'd been abducted after two cupcakes put him to sleep.

From the sound of the voices nearby, Hershel recognized his kidnappers easily; the two bad men that had been after Sir Luke and his younger self. That was strange. If they wanted Luke so badly, why had they kidnapped him instead? Carefully, he cracked one eye open and glanced around. One of the Don Paolos was busy crowing in triumph while the other just grumbled under his breath, puffing away on his cigar. He caught sight of the blue jumper he was wearing, the exchange with Young Luke now coming to mind, and he almost groaned aloud in frustration.

Oh, so that's why he was taken. Did this mean that those old blokes were really trying to kidnap Young Luke? Hershel blinked in realization, his eyes widening. Then Sir Luke knew ahead of time that they were going to try to kidnap his little self! That's why he was told to stay close to Young Luke and keep him safe! It was because he remembered being kidnapped that day, which was today!

Blimey, time travel was tricky!

In any case, Young Luke was safe, so that meant his mentor was too. All that was left was to figure a way out of this mess. And he would do that... as soon as he could stop being bloody scared out of his mind because he'd been kidnapped! A whimper wanted to escape him and Hershel did his very best to hold it in, instead focusing on testing the bonds that held his hands in check. They were strong and snug, with no real room for him to wriggle free. If he turned his head and craned his neck a little, he could peek just a little bit out the window of the car, and all he saw were unfamiliar buildings and the sky, its color growing more orange and gold with the waning hours of the day.

How much time had passed? Would Sir Luke know where he was? Would he ever be found? Hershel found himself feeling homesick and lonely and rather frightened. He shut his eyes and this time could not hold back the little sob that escaped him. What was going to become of him?

One of the men twisted around to glower down at him, cigar clenched in between his teeth, before the expression became more sneer than scowl. He turned to his partner in crime, the one driving, and gloated in that increasingly familiar nasal tone. "So Penford's in our hands at last, eh? The treasures of the Layton Family will all be mine now!" he declared with a barking laugh. The driver grunted almost contrarily.

"Something's not right." the older, scarier-looking man returned, shooting a glare at the younger one, "As things stand, the Time-Binder's not reacting as it should, nor are my memories altering appropriately. I'm pulling aside; check on the boy."

Hershel panicked, squirming in place as the car slowed, then stopped, and the first man turned in his seat and reached out to him. When the hat was snatched off his head, he glared up at his kidnapper as fiercely as he could despite shaking where he lay, then stuck his tongue out at him. Yes, it wasn't very gentlemanly but bugger all, this was the second time Sir Luke counted on him with a mission and he wasn't about to spoil it now!

"It's not the Penford boy!" the younger Don Paolo declared in outrage, "It's that other brat!" The elder twisted in his seat and glared furiously at Hershel, and he shrank back in horror at that look. Something was different in that man's eyes compared to the eyes of his younger self, something was much darker and more inhuman.

This man was the one who didn't care if Sir Luke or his old, stuffy self got hurt or killed. This man was the one to be very afraid of.

"I've no use for this one, but we need him alive to gain access to the boy." he finally growled, "For now, he lives. Throw him out. Time has foiled us today." Both the younger Don Paolo and Hershel stared at the man in stunned disbelief. Was that it? Really? The man glared more fiercely and Hershel wished he had more room to shrink away further; he really was a horrifying sight and the boy halfway wondered if he'd just soiled himself. "Did I not make myself clear?" he hissed, "This boy is key to gaining us what we both want, and he can't do that if he's with us or if he's dead. Throw him out!"

Before either of them really knew what was happening, the car door opened and the younger Don Paolo punted him onto the sidewalk, still bound in cord and now bruised and smarting from the rough treatment, the blue hat tossed after him and landing haphazardly beside him. The scarier man just watched coldly, smoking in thick puffs that he blew into streams of pungent smoke, like Hershel was little more than a bedraggled stray kitten he was leaving to wither in the cold London streets.

"Your time will come, Layton." he muttered, and grinned with evil teeth stained yellow from age and tobacco, "Then you'll be right for fearing me." And then the motor roared back on and they vanished, racing down the street with hardly a glance back.

The streets were mostly empty here -Hershel noticed once his shock and fear receded- and cobbled though they were, they also stank of sewage and filth, dustbins spilling over and littering the alleys between buildings. How was he to get back to the little brownstone house from here? Where was he?

Hershel managed to get to his feet, thankful that at least his ankles weren't bound. It wasn't safe to stay in one place too long, he learned that from his time with the Gutter Valley Boys. Leave a mark for other Boys to know what happened, and then move, always move. Moving made it harder for the law to track you, to catch you. But in this case, the 'law' was Sir Luke, and his mentor needed to find him easily. First, though, the cord.

Right away, Hershel thought of the easiest way to get free; cut the cord. But he had no pocketknife on hand, and the idea of using anything sharp from the rubbish around him made him cringe. So what else did he have? He tested the bindings once more, trying to trace the pattern the cord took in tying his hands together. It felt like they had just crossed his wrists over one another and then looped the cord over them several times.

"Oh, is that all they did?" Hershel muttered under his breath in exasperation. Well, if that was the case, then the solution was simple. He twisted one wrist to try opening a little space and slip his other hand through. It hurt at first and he bit his lip to try to ignore it as he tugged carefully, slowly, testing the limits of the little bit of free space he'd managed to create. Just as his twisted hand started to grow numb, his other came through with a scraping of cord against bare, delicate flesh and Hershel immediately brought both hands around, sucking and licking at the injury of that hand as he curled the other closer to him protectively, wincing at the rush of blood going back into circulation.

It wasn't pretty, but it was done, and the unbroken loop of cord lay forgotten on the sidewalk as Hershel began walking in the opposite direction the car had been moving. After all, it stood to reason that if the car was going down the road, then going up would lead him back to Sir Luke and the other Professor Layton, that stuffy gent.


	30. Bonus Content

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Content from livejournal.

posted September 25th, 2008: (http://irizcrystali.livejournal.com/9345.html#cutid1)

"Since starting this fic, I've noticed the concept words and names I've created have spread all throughout the fandom. While this makes me oh so gleeful beyond all reason, it's also come to my attention that newcomers to the fandom might get confused and actually think that these names are official canon terms. Which they are NOT. >> >

So I'm going to clear it up bit by bit in hopes that the newbies don't get confused and I don't get sued by Level-5. Heh....

I'll try to keep only to the names we already know about, to minimize spoilerage.

Penford:

Contrary to fandom belief, this name is NOT canon. It's not official either. As far as anyone knows in the Professor Layton games, Luke's last name is never given. To that end, I decided to create a surname for our little puzzle apprentice. So I chose Penford. Now you may be wondering, 'Why Penford?', right? Here's how and why.

Because my husband had me listen to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy audio books! OTL

I was writing a few chapter in the early parts of Paradox Lost when I suddenly found myself in a dilemma. What the heck do I give Luke as a name when he's in the time that Layton and his younger self existed? I went into a bit of a panic, because there was no way I would have the two Lukes refer to each other as 'older me/younger me' for the rest of the story. It took away from the impact. Hershel and Layton were easy to tell apart; Layton is the Professor, always called by his last name, while Hershel was referred to by his first name since he has no title besides Hawk-Eye and is still a boy. But what of the orphan Luke?

I started brainstorming several names that would not only suit Luke but also fit in with the region of London. As best as I can remember, here are some of the names I came up with (please keep your laughter to a dull roar).

Fairsworth  
Farnes  
Cobbler  
Colins  
Harvards  
Blakesly

I rejected them all almost immediately after penning them down. And all the while The HGttG was playing in the background. So I stopped to listen to one chapter because I just loved listening to Arthur Dent and Ford Prefect have their chat in the pub about the coming of the end of the world and I decided I liked the sound of the name Ford. Then I remembered that Luke kept writing down his notes in his little book with a pen and suddenly....

Luke Penford

And the rest is fan-canon history....

So far, Top-Hat, Ariga-ten, and I believe even Miss Nettik 'Pursuer' all initially thought Penford was official canon, thought up by Level-5, for the simple reason that it sounded so right on Luke. It rolls off the tongue so easily and naturally, doesn't it? XD Well, it's not canon. It's a bit of a fluke that grew like a weed! And I love it!"

 

 

 

 

posted September 22nd 2008: (http://irizcrystali.livejournal.com/9039.html#cutid1)

Since starting this fic, I've noticed the concept words and names I've created have spread all throughout the fandom. While this makes me oh so gleeful beyond all reason, it's also come to my attention that newcomers to the fandom might get confused and actually think that these names are official canon terms. Which they are NOT. >> >

So I'm going to clear it up bit by bit in hopes that the newbies don't get confused and I don't get sued by Level-5. Heh....

I'll try to keep only to the items we already know about, to minimize spoilerage.

 

Time-Binder:

 

Designed by Professor Luke Penford Layton of Layton Technologies, the Time-Binder is the point of focus for the Temporal Slipstream Device, used as a ground by which the slipstreams are formed, as well as protection for the traveler. It was crafted as a pocket-watch for ease of travel and for a disguise, as the traveler may find themselves needing to check it often to be sure of when in time they are. As a multi-purpose device, the Time-Binder serves many important functions.

1\. Binder: The Time-Binder's primary purpose is to ground the traveler to non-native time periods by streaming local tachyons through the traveler, effectively masking them to the current timeline and minimizing temporal corruption damages. This function requires little energy and interference by the Slipstream Device and thus can be made to function even if the Time-Binder itself is damaged or separated from the traveler. Extended time away from it or prolonged delay of repairs will eventually cause the Binder effect to weaken, evidenced by increasing changes to personal histories before progressing to larger historical events in the 'butterfly effect'. The effect can also be weakened if more than one person was in contact with the device during time travel, as the Binder effect is then split between the multiple travelers in accordance to mass and number, straining its effectiveness, which is why Professor Layton stressed keeping a strict 1:1 ratio that ultimately was ignored. The Time-Binder has a self-protection for temporal corruption cases; should the Binder effect deteriorate beyond a calculated percentage, the traveler is automatically recalled to their time period of origin by free-flowing tachyons if within range of the Time-Binder. If not, sadly, the traveler is killed to prevent corruption of the time period. Professor Layton stresses the importance of keeping the Time-Binder safe, secure and in perfect working order.

2\. Antikythera Mechanism: The hours on the face of the Time-Binder refer to historical events that take place after the point in time the traveler arrives. Once calibrated to the exact local time (done by manually programming the time into the Slipstream Focus but Professor Layton admits to creating a secondary method based on comparing genetic material for analysis and time comparison which is more accurate and easier to use but requires physical contact with a specific individual), the mechanism begins counting down to each event. Up to twelve consecutive events can be programmed into the mechanism, with a thirteenth hour which marks when the timeline is locked to prevent further action and the traveler is recalled to the time period of origin. If changes were made to the timeline before the lockdown, then upon the sealing of time, the traveler is either returned to their time period with changes made to them personally to reflect the adjusted timeline (provided the two variants are not too disimilar) or is completely erased from the timeline to be replaced by a new variant of themselves back in the time period of their origin (if the two variants are highly disimilar) in a process referred to as ETR (Erase Then Replace). The Time-Binder then loses all functionality until reawakened by the research and development team of Layton Technologies. The mechanism is controlled by a series of clockwork that share functionality with the Slipstream Focus.

3\. Slipstream Focus: Embedded into the inner lining of the Time-Binder's covering are two sets of analog displays, one projecting the time period of origin by the traveler, the other the destination time period. The destination is usually programmed in by hand and then locked into memory by pressing a dial on the device itself, though it has been rumored that the destination time can be altered during slipstream travel by the Slipstream Device, shifting the bridge endpoint to the new time without the traveler noting the difference until they've checked the display or observe obvious changes in their environment reflecting an alternate destination. Time periods of origin are also programmable by hand, but Professor Layton admits to it being a redundant option as the Time-Binder sends tachyon information from its holder back to the Slipstream Device, which analyzes and dates it, then sends the information back to program the appropriate point of origin remotely. The Slipstream Focus shares functionality with the Antikythera Mechanism via a series of clockwork to synchronize the destination time with each current historical event phase. Damage to the clockwork renders both the mechanism and the Slipstream Focus inoperable until repaired or replaced.

4\. Stream Summon: An experimental and highly unstable function that was part of the prototype Time-Binder but never officially tested, the Stream Summon allows the holder of the Time-Binder the ability to call up anything or anyone they wish from their time period of origin to join them in their current time period. Objects have a chance of being lost through time in the summon, as they are not directly connected to the Time-Binder, relying instead on sharing similar tachyon readings as the holder by any means. Living creatures are incredibly risky to summon, as many factors come into play that the research and development team of Layton Technologies have yet to explore. Primarily, the main concern and fear is the summoning of a living individual who resides in a non-locked time period that co-exists with a living individual of the currently stable time period. In other words, two people from the same time period with similar tachyon readings but registered as alternatives of each other may be brought face to face with each other. This could cause a fatal paradox, as their histories begin to conflict and twine in an attempt to reconcile the differences to create one whole and stable individual. If the reconciliation can't be done, the timeline begins to corrode, forcing it to offshoot into a new timeline while isolating the corroding period and destroying it. Until R&D can fully understand all implications of the Stream Summon feature, it remains locked on the prototype Time-Binder. Only Professor Layton's genetic data can release the lock.

 

 

 

 

 

posted September 22nd 2008 (http://irizcrystali.livejournal.com/8723.html#cutid1):

Since starting this fic, I've noticed the concept words and names I've created have spread all throughout the fandom. While this makes me oh so gleeful beyond all reason, it's also come to my attention that newcomers to the fandom might get confused and actually think that these names are official canon terms. Which they are NOT. >> >

So I'm going to clear it up bit by bit in hopes that the newbies don't get confused and I don't get sued by Level-5. Heh....

I'll try to keep only to the items we already know about, to minimize spoilerage.

Temporal Slipstream Device:

 

Designed by Professor Luke Penford Layton of Layton Technologies, the Temporal Slipstream Device is a focal point generator that streams tachyons through two points of time and links them together, creating a narrow bridge that will allow a traveler to move from time period to time period. It operates by connecting with the Time-Binder to read its current location and time, as well as the destination time, then uses tachyon particles to envelope the immediate area around the Binder until it has been isolated from the current time period. The bridge is forged to the destination and the traveler is slipped into the stream until arriving in a similar isolated pocket of non-time. Once arrival is confirmed by the Time-Binder, the stream is closed from the original period, reversing the flow until the isolated area is released and time begins to flow normally for the traveler.

As the device is still in its prototype form, travel tends to be heavily reliant on calculating historical events to find the closest point of time where the period is less resistant to intrusion from another time. Professor Layton is currently working towards using tachyons to 'view' time periods for more accurate adjustments to the bridging of timelines. Travel is also a painful experience, as large amounts of energy are used to propel the traveler through the slipstream safely. Common side effects include dizziness, fatigue, nausea if traveling after eating, numbness in the limbs, disorientation, mild to severe headaches, and brief bouts of unconsciousness. The greater the amount of mass moving through slipstream, the more severe the side effects. Professor Layton has pointed out that, for the testing purposes of the Slipstream Device, his own body mass was used as the inital standard and reportedly said after the trial jump of five minutes into the future, that he would next work on making it less painful and 'less of a bloody wretched bitch'.

 

 

 

 

Posted August 18th, 2008: (http://irizcrystali.livejournal.com/8151.html#cutid1)

While my troubles with PL's next chapter continue, I'm going to be posting the rejected and alternate chapters for some of the previous posts. Maybe this will help me get out of my rut as well, since the newest chapter is looking to be a very long one. So many flashbacks....

Anyway! Here is an alternate version of Chapter 15, when Luke and Hershel arrived in the timeline of Layton and Young Luke. This isn't the first version that I had posted that didn't sit well with maskalade (sadly, it was somehow lost in the move so no record of it exists anywhere) but it is a second version that was written before I replaced it with the updated first version. Half of it will be familiar to you, but things change DRASTICALLY in the second half. Hence why it was rejected. Enjoy the outtake!

***

The day was bright and pleasant, perfect weather for children to go out and play in the park or have a picnic. For Luke and Flora, two youngsters in the care of famed archaeologist and puzzle-solving teacher Professor Layton, sunny days like this meant one thing.

Spring cleaning.

Normally, children would run screaming for escape at the idea of spring cleaning, but these two found themselves enjoying the chores as each one became a game or a puzzle. And the sight of the great Professor Layton in an apron with a feather duster was simply icing on the cake. Bustling from top to bottom of their modest two-story house, the odd little 'family' dusted and scrubbed and swept and polished until everything was gleaming like new.

"Ahhh! That's so much nicer now!" the Professor remarked with a happy sigh, lifting a window to let the breeze in, "Like a brand new house. Cleaning brings its own reward, you know."

"Yes, Professor." Luke replied, flopping back in a chair and splaying limbs all over the place, "But I'd still like something a bit more... tangible?" Flora fanned herself as she sat more demurely on the couch, her ponytail tied up in a bun and kerchief to keep it out of the way. She nodded hesitantly in agreement, still a bit unsure of herself as the newer member of the household.

"A small treat would be rather lovely." she murmured with a smile, "If it's not too much, that is." Layton stepped back from the window, lifting a hand to his mouth in his usual pensive pose before smiling at the children.

"Well, since you did so well on your chores with little complaint, I suppose a treat isn't uncalled for." he remarked and chuckled at the bright and hopeful expressions on his two assistants' faces, "How about some ice cream? We can run down to the market...."

A violent explosion shook the house suddenly, startling them all as the force rattled dishes, furniture, picture frames and sent the Professor sprawling onto the floor. Yelping in alarm, Luke leaped from his seat and was at his side in a flash, helping the man sit up as Flora retrieved his silk top hat and handed it back, shaken by the blast.

"What was that?" Luke asked fearfully as Layton placed the hat carefully on his head, then lowered his hands, eyes dimming for the quickest second before blinking back to awareness.

"Hmm. I... I'm not sure." he replied and stood up, dusting himself off, "Well, let's go and see what caused that racket before any more harm happens. Are the two of you all right?" Luke and Flora both nodded and followed him out the door, searching for the source of the explosion.

They didn't have to go very far. A search of the immediate area had Flora cry out in fright, bringing Luke and Layton to her side almost instantly, peering into the shadows of a nearby alley where she pointed shakily. A young man clad in a long blue coat and blue cap lay on his back in the alley, a small boy dressed in brown coat and top hat slumped on top of him. Neither one moved at the sound of Flora's cry.

"Blimey! Dead people!" Luke exclaimed in awe, causing Flora to shriek again and Layton winced at the volume, shooting a stern look at his apprentice, who smiled sheepishly back. "Ah! Sorry, Professor...." he apologized. They hurried forward, Flora not so quickly, and watched in trepidation as Layton knelt by the two forms and checked for pulses.

"They're alive, just unconscious. Flora, take the little boy; I'll carry the larger one. Luke, gather their possessions. We'll treat them in the house." the Professor ordered quickly and calmly, lifting the small child and handing him to Flora. She struggled a bit but was able to hold the weight. Luke picked up the two fallen satchels and blinked at them before looking at his own.

"Hey, Professor...?" he began curiously as Layton worked on lifting the young man up himself, hooking his arms around his shoulders and under his knees.

"Not now, Luke! Hurry inside!" the Professor returned shortly, scanning the area around them quickly before rushing off with Flora at his heels. Luke tilted his head in confusion, shrugged and picked up a pocket-watch that had been in the older boy's hand, shouldering the extra bags, then following his mentor.

\--

He stood on the walkway, gazing down at the staff he had assembled for the sole purpose of bringing his two concepts to life. He was far younger than any of them, yet they all looked at him with adoration, the light of hero worship in their eyes. He was young, but he was incredibly intelligent; his mentor, bless his soul, was the one to thank for that.

One of the scientists hurried up to him with freshly printed reports in his hand, an excited look on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but paused to rethink what he was about to say at the warning glare shot at him. Then the excitement returned full force.

"Sir Penford, we've done it! We've successfully transferred the test subject two hours into the future and brought it back!" the man declared and gestured with the papers at the cluster of scientists standing around the test subject, a small robotic dog. Luke leaped down from the walkway, a drop of only a few feet, and made his way to the cluster. The group parted upon noticing him, showing him the dog with a ribbon tied around its tail and a golden pocket-watch hanging around its neck. He studied it carefully, then looked to his staff.

"Where is the ribbon of this time?" he asked and a woman passed him a length of ribbon the same color as the one tied to the dog. Luke eyed it just as critically, looked back at the other ribbon, then promptly tore the one in his hand almost in two. The ribbon on the dog suddenly ripped as well, and Luke lifted an eyebrow in contemplation.

"Had the timeline been locked when you brought Gozo back?" he asked the group of scientists. They blinked at him and Luke frowned more sternly, "Let me make it more clear for you. Did the watch ring when you brought my dog back from the future?" The group shook their heads and Luke lifted the ribbon before himself. "If the watch did not ring, then time is not locked, which means you have just opened a paradox." he lectured, "This ribbon is now torn, which means two hours after the dog left, you tied a torn ribbon to its tail and sent it back to this time. But the ribbon that arrived was whole, which means the ribbon that was tied was also whole, which means I had not torn the ribbon. Yet you have witnessed me do such a thing." Luke threw the ribbon aside, glaring up at the scientists as they all stepped back nervously, "You were so caught up in the sending of the dog that you completely forgot to cover for casual loops! What the bloody hell were you thinking; you could have gotten yourselves caught in the loop!"

"But, Professor-!" one of the women began and the group gasped collectively, hands flying up to their mouths as Luke reached into his pocket and brought out a small mason jar half full of coins. He opened the jar and held it out sternly, waiting as the woman groaned and dug out her change to toss inside. The staff had been warned about this sort of thing and always dreaded seeing Luke pull his little jar at any slip-up. The new coins clinked against the glass and Luke shook it, gazing at the red line painted on it with an unreadable expression.

"One more slip and you should reach the limit." he commented flatly, "The song you will be performing will be 'Modern Major General' if you call me that title again." He pocketed the jar and turned a firm gaze at the group of scientists. "Now, burn both of these ribbons and review your data. Check for errors and close the time stream immediately." he ordered, gesturing at the large machine set against the far wall of the room, "I don't want any significant temporal corruption escaping this facility!"

"Right away, Sir Penford!" the staff exclaimed and scattered to get to work. Luke sighed, shaking his head before heading out of the room. Another failure; until he could master time, he couldn't afford to waste a second of it. The technology had to be sound, all contingencies accounted for, absolutely nothing could be allowed to go wrong. After all...

Its maiden mission was intended to be its swan song as well....

\--

Luke gazed down at the boy in the bed, uncertain if he should feel worried for the number of burns covering the young man's body, annoyed that he seemed to be copying his style in almost every way, or jealous of the amount of care and attention Professor Layton was paying him. He fidgeted in place, sighed just slightly more dramatically than before, and tried to look innocent when Layton paused his work to give him a steady, not-quite glare.

"Is there a problem, Luke?" he asked simply and Luke shook his head automatically, not really wanting to bother his mentor, but still yearning for some attention himself, "Is Flora finished taking care of the younger boy?"

"Um, I don't really know...." the young apprentice mumbled, clutching the tray of bandages, tape and lotion. Layton picked up another roll from the tray and resumed carefully wrapping the teen's arm, having already applied the burn cream to it.

"You may want to go and see if you can help her. I'll be fine on my own for the moment." the professor remarked quietly. Luke nodded slowly, but made no attempt to move. "Luke." the gentleman spoke more firmly and the boy sighed again.

"Professor, I really don't like this! I don't trust either one of these blokes!" he declared almost defiantly, "They look like trouble, the both of 'em do!" Layton only smiled as though indulging in some secret joke and reached out to gently place a hand on Luke's shoulder.

"There's nothing to worry about now. Be assured that in their condition, neither of these boys can do us any harm. And I get the feeling that harming us is the furthest thing from their minds." he told his apprentice calmly, "One is a child just your age, and the other appears to be his caretaker. Look at his injuries." Layton gestured towards the unconscious young man's face and half-wrapped torso, both still reddened from burns that were only beginning to fade with the application of medicinal lotion. Luke peered at them, then sighed, nodding reluctantly. They were worse than the ones on the little boy that Flora was tending to, even covering his back whereas the child had pockmarks of burns scattered over his body. "He used himself to shield that child from whatever caused these burns in that explosion. I very much doubt they would bring harm to anyone else."

"If you say so, Professor." Luke finally admitted defeat and pulled himself together enough to crack a grin, "I'll see how Flora's doing with the little one. Then I'll make us some tea; you're looking a bit pale yourself." The older man chuckled softly, returning to his work.

"Must still be the shock of this ordeal. I'll be fine." he replied and Luke finally hurried off with the tray, eager to finish up with Flora so he could start on the tea. Layton waited until his senses told him he was clear before shaking his head ruefully. "You can open your eyes now, young sir. He's left the room and I know you've been awake for at least five minutes now." he added with a grin. The teen lying before him growled softly before opening blue eyes to focus on him in annoyance.

"He calls you Professor?" he asked hoarsely. Layton nodded absently, snipping the end of the bandage with scissors and affixing a strip of tape to hold it down before reaching out to help him sit up. The young man jerked away, a warning glare on his face.

"It is my title, sir. Professor Hershel Layton of London. And you are?" the gentleman remarked, unruffled by the rejection of his aid as the teen struggled to sit up on his own. He hissed in pain, one hand flying up to his still unbandaged left shoulder before jerking away at the contact that sent another jolt of pain through him. "I would recommend against unneccesary movement or contact with your skin for now. Your burns are rather severe." the Professor went on.

"Don't feed me that line...." his guest seemed to be searching for some term, lips moving over one that made Layton lift an eyebrow at him before settling on what appeared to be his safest bet, "Professor." He growled again, clenching hands into fists despite his pain. "You know damn well who I am. You've known it the moment I arrived!" the teen spat out. Layton merely gazed back at him, then looked away in thought.

"Luke will be making tea soon. I'll have him bring it up to your room first and Flora can bring your companion in here for convenience. Both of them are quite curious to know who you two are." he remarked evenly, noting the suddenly flush that spread over the teen's face at the mention of Flora, "So, you have three choices from which to continue your path. You can tell us all who you truly are and why you are here; perhaps we can help you with your troubles. You can also fabricate a story to hide your identities, and face attempts to thwart your plans by my apprentice, as he doesn't seem to take to you that kindly."

"I will blame you for that." the teen grumbled softly. Layton ignored those words.

"Or you may simply remain silent and leave this household to continue your journey, taking your chances with what unexpected events may hamper or help you." the gentleman finished and stood up, "This may be quite rude of me, so I apologize in advance, but for the sake of my apprentice, could you refrain from using your full name if you choose to tell us the truth?" The teenager laughed at that, a harsh sound given the condition of his throat and his obvious irritation with him.

"His sake, Professor? Or perhaps your own?" he returned softly, eyes glittering with simmering anger, "As a former student of yours, I remembered you as a great man and praised your name; perhaps I was mistaken. You're hiding secrets just as I am. Will you keep them hidden until they can cause the most pain to the ones you claim to love?" Now the Professor looked confused and the teen smiled, tapping at his temple, "I'm far different from your apprentice, Professor Layton; the pain you've caused me has made my personality what it is today. All you can hope for is that your little boy never suffers my fate."

There was a knock at the door and the Professor seemed to not hear it for a moment. A second knock and he snapped to attention, turning to open it and let in whoever was on the other side. Flora hurried inside in a graceful swirl of skirt and ponytail, the bandaged little boy cradled in her arms as she smiled shyly at the blushing teen in the bed. A smile that faded slowly until it was replaced by a startled look, the girl quickly moving to hide behind the Professor.

"Sir... he's... indecent." she whispered with flushed cheeks, averting her eyes as much as possible. The young man in bed blinked and looked down at himself for the first time, finally registering her words and his eyes widened in shock and embarrassment. He'd been stripped down to the barest of underclothes, all for the sake of wrapping his burns. The job was only half done, so....

He shot a glare at the Professor, clearly blaming him for this as well, while snatching for the sheets and dragging them over his legs to cover up. Flora snuck another peek at him, looked relieved and emerged to place the sleeping boy beside him on the bed. The teen fidgeted nervously for a moment, then reached out to brush his companion's hair out of his face. Flora smiled sweetly at him and he blushed a brighter red, the color reaching the tops of his ears as the Professor lifted his hand to his mouth and coughed delicately to catch their attentions. Luke returned to the room, now carrying a tray of teacups, teapot, cream, and sugar. He took one look at the scene before him and scowled, face turning red.

"'Ey! Clear off! Flora's too good for someone like you!" he yelled and Flora jumped back, hands flying up to her face in shock and embarrassment, the young man glaring daggers at the young apprentice as the uproar woke the little boy up. Layton seemed to suddenly rear back, one hand flying up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a grimace of pain spreading over his face, and the little boy looked around himself groggily. His honey-brown eyes finally settled on Luke's face and widened in surprise.

"Sir Luke! That boy stole your hat!" he declared, pointing at Luke accusingly before noticing Professor Layton near the door, attempting to recompose himself. His finger shifted and his voice rose higher. "And that old man stole my hat!" he added in childish outrage.

Luke dropped his tray of tea, too stunned to do anything else. The teen in the bed only groaned and lifted his hand to his face. Apparently, his decision had just been made for him.

***

It doesn't have the full formatting as the regular chapters, but meh. So show of hands; which chapter version do you like better, the official one or this rejected one? XD No, I'm not switching chapters no matter the vote. Just curious.

 

 

 

 

 

Posted August 6th, 2008: (http://irizcrystali.livejournal.com/7747.html#cutid1)

If you've been following Paradox Lost and checking out the Layton tags in Tegaki E, chances are pretty dang good that you've learned about Corrupt Luke. Corrupt Luke is part of the Paradox Lost storyline, though he doesn't exist yet within that 'verse. Rest assured though that he will indeed be coming to thrill and chill you. However, I must clear the air a bit.

The Corrupt Luke that exists in Tegaki is NOT the same as the Corrupt Luke that will appear in Paradox Lost. That's Aren's version, a happier and more playful version. The Layton tag's semi-unofficial GM, Top-Hat, expanded on him, creating a C!Luke that was increasingly more mischievous, lethal and recently, a father of one.

The true Corrupt Luke, who will come to exist within the confines of Paradox Lost, is more menacing and cold by comparison, at least in my opinion. Since I'm still struggling with Part 23, I'm giving you a bit of a teaser to show you what I mean. Keep in mind, this dialogue may not appear in the story at all, so it shouldn't be taken as fact that it will show up.

***

"The most beautiful sight in the world, as I discovered in time and as you will learn, my boy, is the vision of countless stars shimmering on the surface of freshly spilled blood." Corrupt Luke murmured wistfully, running his fingers through his younger self's hair in a strangely tender gesture, "It glistens like specks of silver on red satin, but it lasts only for so long." The sad smile didn't fade in the least as he tapped Young Luke on the nose. "It reminds me of the Professor, you know. The light of Time flickering madly on the last few traces of him left to me in the world; it stayed in my mind and the only way I can truly see him now is if I see starlight on fresh blood."

Young Luke whimpered as he pulled the blanket higher to cover his face, not bothering to struggle when the black-clad young man tucked them back down.

"But when it dries, that memory fades away, so I have to find more fresh blood to see him again. Over and over, like scarlet paint, I must renew my supplies." Corrupt whispered and gestured towards London, "And here... here is my canvas, with all the paint I could ever desire. I'll teach you how to paint, my boy... and we'll start with that scientist in the brig...."

*****  
There you go! *shiver* It's actually quite difficult getting my mind into character for my Corrupt when I've been hanging around the Tegaki Corrupt for so long, so this piece was tough to write. And if it was hard writing this little bit, imagine how much harder it will be for me when I finally get to introduce Corrupt in Paradox Lost. >


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